


Bury Me Before You Go

by haylynn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bullying, Child Abuse, Closeted Dean, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Homophobia, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 71,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haylynn/pseuds/haylynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak tried burying the ghosts of his past, but they never quite stopped haunting him. With stoic parents who care more about retaining their reputable name than the well-being of their five children, a tragic childhood incident covered up and ignored to avoid scandal, and a friend with a martyr-complex who is set on the mission of self-destruction, Castiel can feel himself slowly fading into just another ghost to be buried. However unexpected and peculiar, the entrance of Dean Winchester in his life might become the kindling to a fire inside Castiel that had been put out long ago. But the question becomes: Will this fire mean for warmth and even put an end to restless ghosts, or will it be a cause for catastrophe and bury everything in ash?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Author's Note

I know that more often than not author’s notes go unread. However, I strongly urge anyone whose interest has peaked for this fic, to take the minute or two to read this introductory chapter. I’ll try to keep it short, and if you really don’t care, then by all means carry on. But there are a few warnings and disclaimers I would like to make. If you don’t read this and would then like to place a complaint later on that has already explained in this message, I will kindly ignore it. There isn’t anything too spoiler-y in this warning, so if you are easily triggered by anything the above tags may cover, then please continue reading.

If you could not tell by said tags, this fic deals with some pretty serious topics. This fic is not light on the different kinds of abuse. Sexual, drug, child, self… This fic has pretty much all of it. I think the biggest one to warn about is a non-con underage situation that is referenced many times throughout the fic, but is never gone into detail. However, drug abuse, child abuse, and especially self-abuse, are all pretty graphically written. As of right now, I'm not sure if I'm going to put individual chapter warnings. So please, please read the tags and take this warning into thought before you continue on.

I would also like to say, that although this story is written in the third person, it is still written from the perspective of people who are going through all of these forms of abuse. They tend to think illogically, and justify certain behaviors in reaction to their situation. This is not to say that they are right, or that I believe that self-harm, drug use, suicide, etc., are valid responses to anything. A lot of these characters are battling with things much larger than them, including their own minds. As you will find, these characters go through a lot of developing, they grow and these harmful thought processes change. I only say all of this because it is my responsibility as an author to clarify any ambiguity behind my story, such as a character responding positively to an injurious act, that could then have negative effects on my readers. Also, because I don’t want any of my readers to think that I believe it is alright, that I am encouraging anyone to use any form of self-harm as a coping method, or perpetrating the romanticism of mental illness, self-injury, and drug addiction/abuse.

If you are dealing with an untreated mental illness or a tendency for self-injury of any kind, or have gone through a traumatic experience that may be a catalyst for the latter’s, **please seek help**. And feel free to contact me if you need to talk!

And although I know this warning may be becoming repetitive and long (probably even annoying), I do want to cover everything. I want to throw out there that this is a fanfiction. It's a romance, but these characters are still individuals. I don't want this to be like one of those young adult novels that instills this idea that there is someone else out there, particularly of romantic interest, who can fix another person's brokenness, or that it is okay to have your well-being entirely dependent on another human being. I am a firm believer in self-help and self-love/appreciation and all that jazz. Dean and Castiel are aids to one another in harsh times, but they are not each other's end-all-be-all. My intention with this fanfiction is to not only write a love story between two amazing characters, but to get across the idea that we are independent creatures who can, and should, overcome our demons on our own (or with a specialist who knows how to properly deal with certain demons). Even if it is really nice and helpful to have others there supporting us.

Just another couple disclaimers and warnings: Please try not to take any religious antagonist or event as my way of being anti-religion or with the intent to offend anyone’s personal views. I only mean to point out some of the hypocrisy and falseness in those who use religion for the wrong reasons. Also, for certain topics and situations I had to use a little bit of my creative license. I tried to do as much research as I could, but I was still limited. I have experience with only a couple of the drugs described (Again, I am not condoning drug use, I’m just simply being real here), but still, all the harder drugs I used mostly what I could find on internet forums and the experiences of others to influence my writing. I also don’t have my medical license, so if there are any medical flaws please don’t give me too much grief. At the end of the day, this is fiction, fanfiction. If your experiences and expertise invalidate mine, feel free to let me know, but only kindly.

I think I covered all of the bases, so with that all out of the way, I hope you all enjoy! I have most of the story finished, so I should be able to update pretty regularly. Please feel free to leave comments and kudos. Sorry for this long-ass introduction I just enjoy being thorough.


	2. Chapter 1: Heart of Porcelain

The headstone was small, simple and seemingly average for all intents and purposes. It wasn’t the most impressive of the lot, rather dreary compared to the tragically beautiful surrounding statues. The sun was becoming hidden by the darkening clouds, and as Castiel stood in front of the grave, he couldn’t help imagine his own name carved into the epitaph.

It was a dark thought, but Castiel did not feel remorse for thinking it.

Castiel inhaled deeply and shut his eyes for a moment. He lifted his chin a bit and let the wind blow against him, taking in the brisk harshness of it. He dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, curled inward slightly. It was a Sunday in the beginning of autumn, and Castiel imagined a twin headstone right next to this one. A headstone with his own name, plain and dull just like its neighbor’s. It was a damn shame, Castiel thought, for such a bright and beautiful soul to be represented by a chunk of stone that knew no beauty.

A raindrop hit his forehead, and Castiel looked up at the sky with a frown. He huffed out a bitter laugh, his eyes beginning to burn slightly. A storm was appropriate for this situation, he supposed. After all, Castiel’s mother used to tell him that thunderstorms were just the angels crying in Heaven. And Castiel always believed her. Standing there now in the middle of a cemetery, the clouds ominous and threatening, he thought he still might.

Castiel hoped if angel’s were watching, they might weep for the boy whose headstone was small, simple, and dreary, when he deserved one carved from marble and outlined in gold.

Falling gently to his knees, Castiel pulled out a necklace from his pocket. It was just a cross, constructed from splintered wood and painted black. It had been a gift. And now Castiel was returning it to its maker.

He dug slightly into the still-soft dirt, creating a hole in which he could drop the necklace and bury it. He stood when it was done, dusted off the dirt from his fingers and his slacks, along with the tears sliding down his face.

“I’m so sorry, my friend.” Castiel whispered, taking a step towards the stone. “But this belongs with you now.”

Castiel placed one of his trembling fingers on the top of the headstone. His fingers traced gently over the letters.

_Alfred Samandriel_

He had gone to the wake, even to the funeral, despite his parent’s reluctance. In the end, they had all gone, because it would be quite unusual for the best friend (and the best friend’s family) of the deceased not to go. But Castiel had remained stoic and emotionless the entire time, going through the motions like a robot. It wasn’t until now, until he was alone in this cemetery, that he could truly pay his respects. But that also meant finally coming to terms with the fact that Alfie was gone, and Castiel hadn’t been prepared for that at all.

Pursing his lips, Castiel wiped his face and backed away from the headstone. He dug his hands farther into his pockets, let out one last deep breath, and turned around to walk away and out of the graveyard. This was goodbye, and this was hell.

The rain began to fall harder, just as thunder began to roll. Castiel cursed all of heaven’s angels, hoping with all of his being that they would cry as hard as he did.

Thunder crashed, and Castiel hurried to the passenger side of a silver car just outside of the cemetery. It had been sitting there for well over twenty minutes, and Castiel wasted no time getting inside it and shutting the door as the rain came down harder.

“You alright?” A voice asked from the driver’s seat.

Castiel lifted his bloodshot eyes and looked at his older brother, taking in the frown and worry lines on his face. He let out yet another shaky breath and nodded.

“I will be.” He said softly, looking out the window at the pouring rain.

Luke looked at his little brother, entirely unconvinced. But still, he shifted the car into drive and sped off, away from the cemetery and towards a different kind of lifeless place. Home.

“Mom and Dad will wonder where we went.” Luke said as they approached their neighborhood. It was getting late, they’d just make it home in time just for dinner.

“Let them wonder.” Castiel said bitterly. He didn’t look at his brother, his eyes only following the condensation down the windows.

“You know that won’t fly with them.” Luke said, although it brought him a great deal of annoyance to acknowledge. They pulled into their driveway, and Luke shifted the gear into park and turned to his little brother. “I know you’re sad, Cas. You’re angry and upset, and you have every right to be. But… Mom and Dad, they don’t understand. And if you’re acting suspiciously and disobeying, you know what they’ll do.”

Castiel lifted his head, blinking for a moment. He resisted the urge to scream, to punch through the window, to go on some kind of brutal rampage. Anger bubbled inside him, because he knew Luke was right. He was right and Castiel hated that more than anything.

“Fine, let’s just say you took me to the library.” Castiel said monotonously. He looked at Luke pleadingly just for a moment, before climbing out of the car and making his way to towards their house.

The Novak’s lived in a beautiful home, classic and mansion-like topped off with modern décor. They lived in one of the best neighborhoods in Lawrence, _obviously_. Mr. and Mrs. Novak wouldn’t have had it any other way. Mr. Novak didn’t work ten hour days and go on monthly business trips as a CEO for Sandover Industries, to live in an average house, in an average neighborhood, with an average family. No, the Novak’s, in his eyes, were a godsend.

They were held in high esteem by their church, respected by their community members. The five Novak children, all growing up beautifully, were gifted in schooling and extracurricular activities. They excelled in academics (save for possibly Luke and Gabriel, who struggled but still managed better than most).

The Novak’s were what all families wished to be, the American Dream. Their neighbors envied them, their peers wanted to be them. Outwardly, they were the spitting image of perfection.

However, looks can be quite deceiving. The Novak’s, despite their virtues, were nowhere near perfect.

Castiel opened the front door and stepped inside. He shook his hair out, hung his coat onto the hook and kicked his shoes off. He made sure to align them nicely in the shoe tray. God knows his mother would have a conniption if he didn’t.

Trying to sneak his way out of the foyer and up the stairs to his room seemed like a good plan. But just as Castiel’s foot hit the first step, he heard his father’s voice.

“Where have you two boys been?” He asked from the armchair in the living room. Castiel stopped in his tracks, turning to face his father. He wiped away any trace of anger or sadness, and stood up straight.

“Library, Castiel needed to return a book.” Luke lied, having come up behind Castiel out of nowhere. He grabbed Castiel’s arm and dragged him along before their father furthered questioning.

Castiel ran up the stairs, sending a thankful glance to Luke a last time before disappearing in his room. He heard his mother call from the kitchen that dinner would be ready soon. But he still locked his door and backed against the wall.

He wouldn’t cry, he kept telling himself that. Crying was something for babies and emotional girls. That’s what his father said, at least, even if it was a ridiculous concept to Castiel. Still, he took several moments to compose himself, reigning in the onset of emotion. He was out of the cemetery, and he needed to stow his grief now.

Castiel loosened his tie and ran a hand through his hair. It was wet and matted down, and his fingers did little to untangle the small knots. He gave up, taking a seat on his bed and staring out the window. The rain was falling hard against the glass, lightening decorated the darkening sky.

Mrs. Novak called for her children to come down for dinner not long after, and Castiel felt ice trickle down his spine at the sound. Reluctantly he stood up from his bed, making his way down the stairs and to the dining room.

Mr. Novak was seated at the head of the table, Michael and Luke on his sides. Castiel sat next to Luke, across from Anna and Gabriel. Their mother sat opposite from Mr. Novak. A pot roast sat on the center of the table, and Castiel observed the way his mother look proudly at it before shutting her eyes and reaching out to hold Gabriel and Castiel’s hands. They all joined hands, as Mr. Novak spoke a prayer.

Once the prayer was over they all dug in, silent as they ate.

“Naomi, you did a wonderful job on the roast.” Mr. Novak broke the silence, speaking to his wife in a voice that was annoyingly praiseful.

“Thank you, Zachariah. It took me all afternoon.” Mrs. Novak responded. Castiel hated how robotic everything sounded. There was no sincerity, no warmth.

Castiel hated the coldness of his parents, their frozen, stone-like posture. He hated the formal responses, the unwelcoming attitudes everyone carried when they were together. He hated his mother’s icy eyes (ones very similar to his own), and their inhospitable gaze. He hated the indifferent air his father carried. Castiel hated the cold, and how there was no relief of warmth and love when he entered his home on a cool, fall day. He hated how their home did not feel like _home_.

“Mom, your mashed potatoes are amazing. You gotta show me the recipe, for whatever reason I just can’t get them right. Such a basic food and I always screw it up. Sometimes they come out flaky and-“

“Gabriel.” Zachariah interrupted his middle son sternly, giving his wife a look that wiped her proud, happy smile, clean off. “Although I know your mother appreciates the compliment, you should direct your focus on more impressive hobbies. Cooking is not an area you should be concerned with, it’s something your future wife will take care of.”

The silence at the dinner table was so deafening that Castiel could hear his ears ringing. Everyone was frozen, watching as Gabriel’s mouth opened and closed. He knew that his father hated Gabriel’s obsession with the culinary arts, but that didn’t stop Gabriel from starting off his senior year by looking into applications for culinary school.

Gabriel shut his mouth and looked at his plate, looking mildly irritated, but not about to partake in an argument he’d never win.

“Oh come on, do you know how many successful male chefs are out there? I mean, possibly even more than there are women chefs. Gabriel could totally be a successful chef.” Luke spoke up after a couple minutes of awkward silence. All of the Novak children and their mother stared at Luke with wide eyes.

“Luke.” Naomi spoke, as if they were about to awake a hibernating bear. Her eyes were downcast, but her voice strong and forewarning. Zachariah gave a small smile, but everyone knew it was only the calm before the storm.

“Don’t be foolish, Luke. You know well that even if he pursued a culinary career, the likelihood of his success his slim to none. He should pursue a more responsible job, even one over at Sandover with me. That is, if he can stop slacking off in school and get the grades for it.” Zachariah responded with a small chuckle at the end, taking another bite off of his fork. He didn’t break his eyes away from Luke the entire time he spoke. It was a challenge, to see if Luke would back down and submit.

Luke’s mouth opened, but immediately closed when he felt a harsh kick on his leg from beneath the table. Luke looked up to see Gabriel staring at him with a slight shake to his head, as if to say, _give it up, it isn’t worth it._

Luke just slumped a little, looking pissed off as usual. It wasn’t the first time he challenged his father, and it wouldn’t be the last. But even being the most rebellious out of the Novak children, he would never win.

“Alright, _Father_. Let’s just see how this school year goes and what college I get accepted into. Maybe medical school, like Michael.” Gabriel winked at his older brother. He wasn’t at all serious, just supremely bitter. Michael just lifted an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

Luke and Michael would be starting their freshman year at college in only a week. Michael, always excelling in the sciences, chose to go into a medical program, and Luke was pressured into applying for law school. In Castiel’s eyes, neither of them wanted to do either. But if Zachariah was offering to help pay for their tuitions, they’d take it. Luke and Zachariah had already spent months at each other’s throats, because Luke didn’t want to become a Lawyer. But when Zachariah finally threatened to kick Luke out after one particular argument, Luke realized that sitting down and shutting up was in his best interest.

“Excellent to hear, Gabriel. Glad to know you understand. I’d hate to have to call Father Marv to come have a chat with you like we did for Castiel when he began questioning God’s will.” Zachariah continued, as if he had made a hilarious joke.

The sound of a fork clattering against the table was enough to regain his attention. Castiel was sitting stiffly against his chair. His eyes were on the table in front of him, like he was frozen in place.

“Castiel, what is the matter with you?” Zachariah asked his son, voice rising in annoyance.

“Darling, do you feel ill?” Naomi wondered, outreaching a hand to feel her son’s forehead. Castiel jerked away from her touch, nearly stumbling out of his chair. His brothers and sister stared at him in confusion, his father getting angry by the disruption.  

“I believe so.” He mumbled, already getting as far away from the room as possible.

Before Castiel could hear the sound of his father demanding him to sit down, he was bolting upstairs. He ran into the bathroom and locked the door. He sat with his back against the counter, holding his head in his hands. He felt bile rising in his throat.

Castiel thought the dinner his mother prepared was delicious, but it didn’t taste anywhere near as good coming up as it did going down. He emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, his knuckles whitening as he gripped onto the bowl tightly. He retched until he burned a little less on the inside.

He felt disgusting. His mouth tasted horrible and his throat burned. His skin was clammy and pale. But the disgusting feeling went deeper than just physical health and appearance.

Castiel felt weak, too. At just hearing _his_ name _,_ Castiel was a vomiting disaster. Of course, after the emotionally stressful cemetery visit today, he simply could not handle old memories being brought up. His hands continued to tremble, and tears finally fell onto his forearm from where his head lay. Castiel shut his eyes and hummed quietly to himself in an attempt to calm down.

It wasn’t a pleasant memory to be reminded of, especially so nonchalantly. The way Zachariah brought up Father Marv, as if he was just another family friend, made Castiel feel like he was suffocating. His skin was too tight, too warm. And Castiel desperately wanted to rip it off, to be able to breathe again.

Father Marv was not a good man. But neither was Zachariah. Maybe that’s why they were both blind to one another’s evils. But Castiel wasn’t.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, but Castiel was too exhausted to lift himself off the floor to answer it. So when he heard the bathroom lock click and footsteps behind him, he was baffled.

“Cas?” A small voice asked. Castiel opened his eyes, relief flooding over him at the sight of his sister.

“How did you get in here?” Castiel croaked. Anna came up behind him, placing a hand on his back.

“I have a key.” Anna said with a cocky grin.

“And how did you manage that?” Castiel asked, a half smile upturning his chapped lips.

“What mom and dad don’t know won’t hurt them.” Anna said quietly.

Castiel let out a small huff of laughter, but it hurt his throat and his stomach. He turned his face into the bowl of the toilet and vomited up whatever was left in his stomach. He let out a shaky sob, wiping his mouth with toilet paper.

“Don’t cry, little one.” Anna spoke softly, rubbing his back.

“You call me that, but I am only six minutes younger than you, and so much larger now.” Castiel said, voice still pained and hoarse.

“You’ll always be my little brother, Cas.” Anna replied. Her expression turned from joking to concern in only a matter of seconds. “Something is wrong.”

Castiel shook his head and lied through his teeth. “I’m just sick, Anna.”

“That’s bullshit.” Anna responded fiercely. She bit her lip, pushing back her bright red locks of hair behind her ears. “Sorry, I just… You’re my little brother. I have a pretty good intuition about these kinds of things.”

“Something is always wrong, Anna. But nothing has changed.” Castiel said, moving to stand. Anna hovered a bit, but let him wash his face and his mouth. He slowly hobbled out of the bathroom and towards his bedroom. He could hear his parents and the rest of his siblings cleaning up downstairs.

“But we can change something.” Anna interjected, moving to get inside Castiel’s room before he shut the door in her face.

Castiel huffed, moving towards his school bag to prepare it for tomorrow. “No, Anna. We can’t.”

“Why not?” Anna asked, smaller now. “I know… I know that you just want to pretend that everything is fine. But we can’t. Michael, Luke, Gabe, and I… We just want you to be okay.”

“I will be.” Castiel sighed, back on his sister. “Someday.”

Anna didn’t push the conversation further, realizing Castiel would only make passive comments instead of actually conversing. She just returned her own sigh and turned around, leaving Castiel be.

After getting his bags and books ready for tomorrow’s impending school day, he changed into some pajamas and climbed into his bed. The thought of sleep was not as enticing as he wished it was. Nightmares were all that awaited for him.

\--- -

It was still storming out when he woke, lighting decorating the walls and thunder rapidly booming in time with his breath. His chest was heaving, he was finally catching his breath.

Castiel sat up, blinking and numb. His heart was pounding, his body was heavy. But he no longer longed for sleep.

The alarm clock on his bed side table said it was half-past two in the morning. Castiel let out a deep sigh. He wanted to lay back down and try to fit in a couple more hours, but he couldn’t. He needed some air, to move around, to bring awareness back into his aching muscles.

Carefully, he climbed out of his bed. Lightening still flashed from outside, and rain poured heavily against his window.

Opening the door to his bedroom, Castiel walked out. It was dark in the hallway, silence pounding against his skull. He felt drawn, heavy as though there was bags of sand weighing him down. But Castiel felt so disinterested in sleep, he thought anything would be better than staring at the ceiling for a few hours.

He walked down the stairs and made his way to the kitchen. He never had the chance to finish eating dinner before he was puking it up in the bathroom. The thought made him a bit nauseous again.

The sound of soft snoring grabbed his attention, and Castiel peered into the living room. His mother was strewn out, still clutching onto a bottle and deep in sleep.

Castiel watched his mother for a moment, chest rising and falling as she slept. This was how it was most nights, Naomi as fake as a porcelain doll, putting on a good show as the Good Catholic Wife, before getting wasted in order to get through the night. It seemed to be a common trend among the Novak family, playing the traditional roles. But it was all a lie, in the end.

There was a special kind of burning hatred that Castiel had for his father, although he still felt it necessary to try and impress him at all costs. However, Castiel didn’t feel as strongly towards his mother. They had never been exceptionally close, and she was nowhere near a good mother. She just looked like one.

All the same, she was kind to Castiel and his siblings on the occasions that their father wasn’t around. She fed them, clothed them, cared for them. Even if Zachariah’s priorities were in line with making the Novak’s simply seem picture perfect for the public eye, Naomi did her best to make it real, rather than a giant hoax. She wanted her children to be the best of the best, as all parents did. But her intentions weren’t as selfish and vain as her husband’s.

Castiel stepped towards his mother, prying the half-empty bottle of vodka from her hands and setting it on the table. When he turned towards her again, she was curled up and dead-asleep.

“Wake up.” Castiel said, his voice breaking slightly from disuse. It would be best to maneuver his mother to her bedroom before she woke up and puked all over the plush carpet and expensive couch.

“Mom, get up.” Castiel repeated, shaking his mother’s shoulder. She didn’t move, and he shook her again. Still, she lay. Softly snoring and motionless on the couch.

“Mom!” Castiel said louder, and yet there was still no response.

Frustrated, Castiel gave up, and sat down onto the ground in front of the couch, in between the space of that and the coffee table. He eyed the bottle of vodka on the table, but decided against it. He had always wondered what alcohol beyond church wine tasted like. But now wasn’t the time to figure it out. He had school in a few hours, and couldn’t afford the potential hangover he would get.

Castiel turned to look at his mother. She looked peaceful in her sleep, the worry lines on her forehead smoothed and the plastic smile she wore flattened. Her fiery hair, much like her daughter’s, was messy and unkempt, loose curls laying around her face. She was beautiful here, raw and real. Not cold and mannequin-like.

A sad smile upturned Castiel’s lips, and he felt a sudden wave of emotion hit him. This was the side of his mother he rarely got to see. Castiel didn’t know if his mother had always been so cold, or if it had been a result of her marriage. But Castiel proposed the latter. It seemed, from her infatuation with alcohol, that Zachariah’s strict influence was as hard on her as it was their children.

Castiel couldn’t remember times from his childhood of his parents being overly affectionate. Perhaps in the church or at public events his mother might have picked him up if he was fussy. Zachariah always stuck to putting hands on his children’s shoulders, but even that was controlling rather than comforting.

There were no memories of hugs and kisses, of his mother blowing raspberries on his tummy and kissing the pain of scraped knees and paper cuts away. There was never fondness and real interest in his father’s eyes. It was always nannies and caretakers that would watch Castiel and his siblings until they were old enough to take care of each other.

Feeling brave, Castiel turned around slightly and reached for his mother. He pulled her gently onto her side, laying her arm over his shoulders from where he sat on the floor with his back against the couch. She didn’t protest in her sleep, only breathed out a sigh that reeked of vodka. Castiel tried to ignore it, attempted to curl into the warmth of his mother’s unconscious embrace. But there was nothing there but expensive silk fabric and the dead weight of her limp arm lying heavy across his shoulders.

Castiel felt a wetness on his face, and he quickly wiped it away. He hadn’t realized he was crying until his chest felt hallow and he couldn’t breathe again. Castiel pushed his mother’s arm back onto the couch, less gentle than before. He felt like a pouting child for a moment. He brought his knees to his chest, forcing himself to calm down.

He had hoped for some comfort in his mother’s embrace, even if she was blackout drunk and blind of his presence. He wanted to know if there was anything really there, a possible warmth he was unaware of. But it was just the same, cold and empty. As it always was with Zachariah and Naomi Novak.

Castiel stood up after the tears were dried and he could breathe again. He gently scooped up his mother into his arms, as he had done many nights before, and carefully walked her towards his parent’s bedroom.

Zachariah was nowhere to be found, most likely passed out in the basement. He never truly remembered his parents sharing a bed. They had always coincidentally fallen asleep in separate areas.

Castiel laid her onto the large, plush bed. He pulled off his mother’s heels, placing them neatly into her closet. He pulled out the pins from her hair and slipped the bracelets off her wrist. He set them down on her nightstand, and pulled the covers over her. Castiel made sure to leave the bathroom door open so that if she were to wake sick, there wouldn’t be a struggle getting to the toilet.

Satisfied, Castiel finally shut the door to his parent’s room, hearing only his mother’s soft snores. He walked away, the hollowness returning to the niche inside his chest.

“I don’t know how you do it.” A voice said as he passed the kitchen. Castiel nearly screamed at the sudden interruption of silence. He turned sharply to see Luke standing in the doorway, holding the bottle of vodka in his hands.

“Excuse me?” Castiel responded, standing up straight as his voice faltered.

“Every night she drinks until she drops, and every night you pick her drunk-ass up from wherever she passed out that particular evening. And I know how much it hurts you. But I don’t know how you can stomach it.” Luke responded, unscrewing the lid to the bottle and taking a few gulps. He was already swaying, and the bottle seemed to hold less than it did when Castiel saw it last. Luke was drunk, or on his way there. It wasn’t a new occurrence, but it was troubling nonetheless.

“It’s what you do for you the ones you love.” Castiel said simply, eyes tracing the patterns on the wooden floors. Luke pushed off from the archway, taking a step towards Castiel.

“You love her?” Luke nearly spat.

“She’s our mother. Yes.” Castiel said, even if it pained him to admit that he could love someone with a heart of porcelain.

“But she would never do the same for us.” Luke said, like he was trying to convince Castiel to change his mind.

Castiel lifted his eyes, and sharply responded. “You don’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do.” Luke said. “I don’t know what it is. Why she is the way she is. Maybe it’s Dad. Maybe it’s how she’s always been. I think, maybe she just isn’t capable of love. I don’t think it’s in her.”

Castiel shook his head. “Perhaps.” He turned to walk away, needing to get away from the scent of alcohol and his brother’s pessimistic words. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s still our mom.”

“That’s your problem, little brother.” Luke slurred, just as Castiel reached the stairs. “You have too much faith, too much heart. And it’s going to bury you.”

Castiel didn’t respond, only stood for a moment, looking at Luke with an expression that was somewhat pitiful, somewhat terrified, before walking slowly up the stairs. Luke’s words hung heavy in his mind, weighing him down until he got back to his bed and sunk into the mattress. He didn’t bother looking at the clock, just curled into his blankets and shut his eyes. His thoughts were on Alfie, whose undying love ended up burying him too.

It was hard to admit, that drunk Luke had a point. His mother had never been one for love. And Castiel always disregarded the empty stares and lack of declarations of motherly love for being the norm. What did Castiel know about normal familial relationships, after all? He didn’t know much, but he knew they weren’t as functional as everyone thought.

Still, it burned him. There was an itch surfacing and he just couldn’t scratch it. He hated this place, hated the coldness. He was freezing, and he would never be warm here.

This house didn’t feel like a home.


	3. Chapter 2: Basket Case

The sound of thunder woke him.

It came in low rumbles, rain falling against the glass of his window steady but purposeful. When he miraculously fell asleep only hours earlier, it was finally stagnant outside. Now the sky was angry and dark again, and Castiel laid in his bed with the urge just to roll over and go back to sleep. Rainy days never improved his mood.

But it was a Monday, the beginning of his school year, and the gloomy late summer and early autumn weather did seem appropriate. Castiel had to get up sooner or later. He couldn’t afford to be late. He roused himself, sitting up and twisting his back. He stretched out his shoulders and reached for his toes. His body was sore and his eyes were heavy. 

Castiel spared a glance outside his window. He could predict that it would be raining for most of the day.

He grabbed a towel off the hook behind his door and walked to the bathroom. He heard some noise downstairs, plates clinking together and conversing. If his siblings were already awake and eating, he only had about twenty minutes to get ready.

Showering quickly, Castiel tried to enjoy his few moments in the steam. It was comforting, cleansing. And after, he dried off and dressed himself. He remembered Anna telling him he should lay off the slacks and dress shirts more often, and pulled on a pair of jeans, a white dress shirt, and a charcoal-grey sweater. He rolled the sleeves up too, for an added flair. He brushed his teeth and ran his hands through his dark, wet hair for the perfect messy look.

He would have much preferred pajama pants and a long sleeved sweater, he would have even skipped out on showering and brushing his teeth too if it weren’t for his father’s strict dress code. He always pushed for his children to look nice when they left the house. The last time Castiel tried to leave in sweatpants, his Father lectured him about looking ‘professional’ for an hour and they missed the bus.

Castiel trudged out of the bathroom, uncomfortable and exhausted. He wanted to sleep, to rip off his stiff clothes and climb into bed. Instead, he grabbed his back pack and books and slipped out of his room.

Gabriel was pouring way too much sugar in his coffee and Anna was shoving a waffle down her throat when Castiel entered. Michael was watching both of them disapprovingly, muttering something about cavities. Luke was nowhere to be found.

“Good morning.” Anna said, with syrup dripping down her chin and a waffle-y smile.

Castiel felt his lips upturn at how silly she looked. “Good morning, Anna.”

“Ready for school, Cassie?” Gabriel asked, downing a few sips of his sickeningly sweet coffee.

Castiel let out a deep sigh, slipping on his shoes. “Not at all.” He looked around for a moment. “Where’s Luke?”

“Sick.” Anna replied, putting her plate in the sink and grabbing her back. “So is Mom.”

“Nothing new there, though.” Gabriel said, finishing his coffee.

“And father?” Castiel asked.

“He just left about ten minutes ago.” Michael said. He got up and walked over to the fridge. He took out an envelope that was sitting on top of it and pulled out some money for his three younger siblings’ lunches.

Anna and Gabriel grabbed their share and said their goodbyes quickly before ushering out towards Gabriel’s car. Castiel went to take his, nodding at Michael in gratitude. Michael grabbed him by the arm before he left.

“Did something happen last night?” He asked. “I mean, after dinner, after we all went to sleep?”

Castiel thought for a moment, thought of coming downstairs to put his drunk mother to bed and then being confronted by a drinking Luke. “No, why?”

Michael squinted at Castiel, a slight look of disbelief that Castiel barely caught. “Just curious.”

Castiel pursed his lips and looked away. Michael released his arm and clapped him lightly on the back. “Have a good day.”

Castiel nodded and waved goodbye, walking out into the pouring rain towards Gabriel’s car. His backpack was heavy on his back, and his heart was so much heavier.

The drive to school was uneventful. Anna and Gabriel fought over the aux chord and about what music to play. Anna was trying to put on makeup and change her outfit skillfully, not accidentally flashing her brother’s in the process. She managed to change into tight skinny jeans and a low-cut shirt. The heavy makeup and revealing outfit strictly violated their father’s dress code. He always made sure Anna wore long skirts and high collared blouses, just as every good Catholic girl should. But Anna always found ways around it, changing before and after school.

Castiel just sat in the back seat, head against the window. He shut his eyes, hoping the day would go quickly.

Lawrence High School was nothing special. To Castiel, it was just another meaningless place filled with meaningless people. The town that he lived in was a cesspool of judgmental people all pretending they were better than everyone else. LHS merely took all kinds of hateful people and put them together.

Gabriel and Anna said their goodbyes once they arrived, and they went their separate ways. Castiel headed towards his locker, already completely done with the day.

Castiel wasn’t exactly skilled in the art of making friends. He walked the halls alone, and spent his lunches and homerooms in the art room or library. He didn’t see the point in making friends, everyone ignored him as though he didn’t exist. He wasn’t remarkable or good at fitting in. He was a walking one-way mirror. He could see everyone, but no one could see him.

A part of him was thankful for that. On the rare occasion he was involved in a conversation or someone made an attempt to befriend him, he utterly failed at responding appropriately. He wasn’t very inviting, to say the least. People seeing right through him was probably better for everyone. He didn’t mind not really existing.

The first few periods went by uneventful. AP History, Honors Pre-Calculus, and Honors Physics were challenging, but they entertained Castiel enough to make the day pass by quicker. Gym was probably Castiel’s most hated class. Public humiliation by exercise and ill-fitting gym uniforms were about as unappealing as they could get. Luckily, Castiel’s gym teacher Mr. Abner, usually let Castiel just do whatever he’d like. He was a friend of Zachariah’s, as they often saw each other at church. He let Castiel go off and run the track by himself, or on the treadmill if he so pleased. Castiel was thankful for that.

Lunch was a whole other battle. Freshman year was a struggle between sitting alone and hiding out in the bathroom for fifty minutes. By sophomore year, Castiel had actually befriended his art teacher, Tessa (she refused to be called by her last name), and she let him eat lunch with her or sit in her room for the period.

After lunch was his art class. Possibly the only class he actually enjoyed, Castiel was fairly artistically gifted. It was a wonderful stress reliever, to be able to spend almost an hour just drawing or painting, creating something beautiful. Plus, Tessa was a wonderful teacher. Castiel might even consider her his only friend.

“You have a talent.” She said to him, leaning against the table he was seated at and admiring his current piece. “But I feel as though you’re holding a lot of your ability back.”

“How so?” Castiel asked, looking up at her curiously.

“Your works are wonderful, don’t get me wrong. Maybe some of the best. But your art isn’t… Personal. It’s generalized. When you’re given a prompt, you give the most obvious answer. I see a light in you, Castiel, but where there is light there must also be darkness. I want to look at your art work and feel something. Let the darkness be your genius.”

Castiel stared up at her, lost for words. His mouth was dry, and he had no idea how to respond. She gave him an encouraging smile and walked away. Castiel spent the rest of the period unable to move.

Her advice was inspiring, there was no doubt there. _It must be easy for others_ , Castiel thought, _to turn their darkness into something beautiful._ _But how can I do that, when my darkness is so dark I can’t even see anymore?_

Still partially stunned as the bell rang, Castiel made his way towards his last class of the day, English. Castiel spent all of that class spaced out, doodling in his notebook and not paying attention at all. They were starting A Tale of Two Cities, and if Castiel had to hear any more about the symbolism of Lucie Manette’s goddamn golden hair, he might just flip his shit. So he put his head down, and doodled some more. Fifty minutes and he would be home. Not that that would be any better.

When the bell ring, he didn’t notice until Mr. Shurley was standing beside him and calling his name.

“Castiel Novak, right?” He asked, fidgeting with his dress shirt sleeve. Castiel wondered how such a nervous man could lead such intellectual and deep lectures with a bunch of teenagers. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Castiel said, snapping out it. He rushed to gather his things. “I just zoned out for a bit.”

“Yeah… Just try not to do that too much. You'll miss something important.” Mr. Shurley said, voice breaking off at the end there. He spoke as though Castiel was some fragile object that would shatter at any moment. Castiel could feel annoyance bubbling. He hated how people looked and talked to him like he might break if they spoke too roughly. It was a common occurrence with adults and his siblings. "You sure you're okay?"

“I’m fine.” Castiel said, swallowing. He stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out the classroom without another word.

He hurriedly made his way towards his locker, the hallways were almost empty now. The rain had cleared up, and it was sunny outside. All of the students had probably rushed out to enjoy the nice weather before winter came.

Castiel’s locker, unfortunately, was on the other side of the school from where his English class was. He knew Gabriel and Anna would probably also be running late. Anna had to change and take her makeup off, Gabriel was probably bugging the lunch ladies for their recipes or something. He had time, but not much.

Emptying his books into his locker and figuring out what he needed to bring home only took a minute or two, and then he was finding the nearest exist and making his way towards the parking lot.

To get to the parking lot, Castiel had to go behind the school, near the stadium. He kept his head low, ignoring the obnoxious people he passed. The school was just about empty now, except for everyone who was staying after for sports. One of those sports, being football.

When Castiel turned the corner and slammed right into something hard, he fell right on his ass and immediately knew what he had hit. Three football players were standing in front of him, holding all their gear and heading towards the locker room. Except for one, who was mirroring Castiel’s position on the ground.

“Jesus Christ. Winchester, did you just get knocked on your ass by a fucking Novak?” A voice laughed.

“Well fucking excuse _me_ , Walker, I didn’t see him coming.” Dean Winchester responded, sitting up and looking up at his other friend. The boy standing helped him to his feet, looking over at Castiel on the ground with a mix of disgust and awe. Castiel was still shocked by the fact that he just ran right into _Dean Winchester_ of all people. And apparently not just Dean Winchester, but also Gordon Walker and Benny Lafitte. Three of the best Varsity football players, and Castiel was now at their mercy.

He felt a surge of pain run down his arm and right to his palm. Apparently when he fell back, he braced himself, and his hand fell right onto a shattered glass bottle. He lifted his muddied hand, stared at the gathering blood pooling and running down his palm and forearm. He cringed, and went to stand.

“Well aren’t you gonna say sorry?” Benny Lafitte said, glaring at Castiel.

Castiel choked right then, overwhelmed by the pain in his hand and the gaze of three giant football players in front of him. He just stared at them, speechless and bleeding, and cursing all the stereotypes of jocks and outcasts that made them natural enemies.

“Hello?” Gordon asked, waving a hand to try and get Castiel’s attention. Castiel finally stood up all the way, holding his injured hand staring at the three like a deer caught in headlights.

“Is he a fucking mute or some shit?” Benny asked, turning to look at his two friends.

Gordon shook his head. “No, just a disrespectful Novak brat who thinks he’s too good to apologize.”

Castiel felt his back hit the brick wall before he could even process what was happening. Gordon had him pinned, and Castiel could feel his chest being constrained. He couldn’t breathe very well, and he felt himself panicking. He clawed at Gordon’s arms, trying to push him away. He still couldn’t formulate words, one of Gordon’s hands at his throat. He wanted to scream, to kick and punch and hit until he could breathe again. But he couldn’t do anything but tremble, and give pleading looks at the three boys in front of him.

Physically, Castiel was in the same boat as Gordon and Dean. He was muscular, tall, and a little bit leaner. Benny was a lot beefier, but they were of similar heights. And yet, Castiel felt small. He felt puny, scared, and there was the oncoming feeling of an anxiety attack he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake.

“Gordon, just let the poor kid go.” Dean said, rolling his eyes and placing a firm hand on Gordon’s shoulder like he had better things to do than terrorize some junior. He tugged a bit. “He’s fucking bleeding and he looks like he’s gonna shit himself.”

“Maybe he should learn to be a little more polite and say sorry then.” Gordon responded, eyeing Castiel angrily.

“Last time I checked, I was the one he knocked into. And it’s not a big deal. It was my fault too.” Dean said, growing impatient and annoyed. “He can’t say sorry when you’re choking him out.”

Gordon released Castiel, and he fell to the ground, wheezing for air. Gordon looked at him, even more disgusted than before. “Whatever, the fucker was getting blood all over my new shirt any ways. Let’s go.”

Gordon stormed off, Benny following close behind. Dean went to follow too, but after what appeared to be some kind of internal battle, he turned around again.

Castiel was breathing heavily on the ground, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest and trying not to burst into tears. Dean kneeled in front of him, and started searching in his duffel bag. “I’m sorry.” Castiel said in a rushed whisper, horrified at Dean’s presence. Dean just looked up at him and shook his head.

“Can I see it?” Dean asked, reaching towards Castiel. Castiel looked at him like he was crazy, and moved to stand up and get away. But Dean stopped him with a gentle hand around his bloody wrist.

“What do you want?” Castiel choked, trying to pull his hand away. He looked up at the boy kneeling before him, and was surprised by the sympathy he found in his beautiful green eyes. Castiel bit his lip, enough to make it hurt a little. He couldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts. Not right now. Not ever.

“Here.” Dean said, handing Castiel a little roll of gauze. He inspected the wound, and the shards of glass and dirt that covered it. “It’ll help with the blood until you get home. You’ll want to get all the glass out and then clean it up. Wrap it, and you should be fine. Doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches.”

“Why are you helping me?” Castiel asked once Dean let him go.

“Because I’m sorry for bumping into you and having assholes for friends.” Dean said simply. He shrugged and turned to walk away.

“Thank you.” Castiel said, and Dean only turned back to give him a little smile before running to catch up with his friends.

Castiel sat there for several moments, unable to process what just happened. Dean Winchester, arguably one of the most popular students and biggest bad-asses at LHS, had actually stopped to help him. Castiel was trying to control his uneven breathing, attempting to muster up the strength to stand and figure out just how the hell he was going to cover up the bloody mess that was his hand when he got to Gabriel’s car. Preoccupied in his own mind, it wasn’t until he heard footsteps again that he looked up.

A girl was standing in front of him, all dark make up and black clothes that revealed too much. She was looking down at him, a cigarette in her mouth that she reached for and threw onto the ground, stomping it out before she kneeled in front of Castiel. Her dark brown hair was messy and curly around her face, and she wore a sinister smile that probably made flowers die. Castiel thought she was beautiful, in a strange way. But he shrunk away from her still.

“What a basket case you must be.” She said, voice like sultry smoke. She moved to sit with her back against the wall, right next to Castiel.

“Who are you?” He asked, on the fence between being creeped out and fascinated.

“Well my friends call me Meg, but you can call me anything you like.” She winked at him. “Who are you?”

“Castiel.” He responded, although everything inside him was screaming that he should run. Run, and keep running. Meg was the kind of girl his parents warned him about. She was everything Castiel was supposed to _not_ be. She was dangerous, reckless, dark, and probably crazy. And yet, there was something about her that made Castiel want to walk right into that dark, dangerous abyss and never look back.

“Well, _Cas_ , you should know better than to piss off Gordon Walker.” Meg said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her bag and a lighter. “He’s got some mad anger issues.”

“I could tell.” Castiel said, watching Meg lift the cancer stick to her darkly glossed lips and light it with the zippo. He wanted to watch her do it again and again, he thought.

“Yeah, might even be a bigger basket case than both of us combined.” She said, taking a drag of the cigarette and blowing out a perfect cloud of smoke. She looked at Castiel and offered it to him.

“You’re not supposed to smoke on school grounds.” He said, hesitantly looking between the cigarette and Meg.

She rolled her eyes and extended her hand even more. “What are you gonna do? Tell on me?”

He didn’t know why, but he took it between the fingers of his good hand and brought it to his lips, inhaling a bit. He had only seen people do this on TV, or strangers do it in public. Castiel thought that Luke must have had a cigarette before, the way he acted with liquor gave Castiel the right to assume. He exhaled, and choked on the smoke. But he liked the way it burned his lungs. He liked the way Meg only knew him for two minutes and already was killing him slowly.

“First time?” Meg asked, taking the cigarette back.

“Was it that obvious?” He asked, voice raw and eyes still watering from the smoke. But he felt a bit calmer now, and the urge to take another drag. Meg looked at him knowingly, and smirked. “So what makes you think that I’m a basket case?”

Meg let out another deep breath of thick smoke and handed the cigarette to him again. “I know the look. The panic, the way you looked at Green Eyes over there like he was Satan himself trying to corrupt your church-y ass.” Meg responded, gesturing to the football field which was now occupied by football players. Number sixty-seven was at the end of the field, and Castiel watched as he, Dean Winchester, ran the football into the end zone effortlessly.

Castiel nodded, looking down at his bleeding hand and wincing. He picked up the gauze and lazily wrapped it, just to stop blood from getting everywhere. It hurt a lot, but less now since Meg arrived.

“If you know the look, you’re a basket case as well then?” Castiel asked, watching Meg take another hit off the cigarette. The end of it flickered, and Castiel didn’t feel anything anymore as he watched her.

“Maybe even bigger than you.” She said, looking at him and smiling wide. Her smiled fell and she lifted her eyebrows and shrugged. “Or maybe not. Who knows?”

Castiel remained silent, watching Meg finish the cigarette and put it out against the bricks.

“I think all the best people are the most fucked up, though.” She said after a little bit.

“And how’s that?” Castiel asked.

“It makes us more interesting” She said. “When you’ve seen some shit, you’re a lot less boring.”

Castiel hummed, not sure on whether or not he agreed. “Why are you talking to me right now?”

“Us basket cases gotta stick together right?” She asked. She looked at him, and then at his hand. “That’ll leave a wicked scar.”

Castiel looked at his still-bleeding hand and grimaced. “I suppose it will.”

“Nothing like these though.” Meg said, wiggling her eyebrows and pushing down her jacket sleeve to reveal her forearm, absolutely decorated by various shades and sizes of pink, red, purple, and white scars. There were some designs, little symbols and words. Castiel looked at her arm with wide eyes.

“How did those happen?” He asked, curious.

“Cigarette burns.” She said, pointing to a few circular scars. “Some of those aren’t mine though. The rest are from my dad’s shaving razor blades.”

“You… You did that to yourself?” He asked, confused.

“Most of them, yeah. I have a lot more too, but this is just my arm.” Meg said, proudly.

“Why would you do that to yourself?” Castiel whispered. Self-mutilation was a bizarre concept.

“I think they’re beautiful.” Meg said, tracing over every rigid line on her arm. “And I like the way it feels. Guess that’s what makes me a basket case, huh?”

“It feels good to inflict harm upon yourself?” Castiel asked. “That doesn’t sound appealing at all.”

“I don’t know why. It doesn’t make sense until you do it, I guess.” Meg responded. “It helps sometimes.”

“But not all the time?”

“Nope.” Meg said simply. She pulled out yet another cigarette and her lighter. “But that’s where these and other things come in.”

“You’re strange.” Castiel observing, watching her light her third cigarette.

“And so are you. I’m just a little bit farther along in my strangeness.” Meg said, winking at Castiel again.

Castiel thought for a moment. “Are you saying I’m going to end up like you some day?”

“You might. Might not. You might be convinced by fancy people who call themselves ‘specialists’ for getting paid to listen to your problems that you are just going through a teenage hormonal phase. You might grow out of it and move on to become a doctor and Good Samaritan or some shit that looks good in the eyes of _your_ God.” Meg said simply, not looking at Castiel as she smoked and stared ahead of her.

“ _My_ God?” Castiel asked, confused at her emphasis.

“Keep hanging around me, and I’ll be the only God you need, angel.” Meg said, moving to stand up.

The pet name went in one ear and out the other, Castiel didn’t even cringe or feel a change in his breathing when she said it. Which was strange, because being called _that_ , of all names, brought back dark memories of a dark room and a dark man. But Castiel wasn’t fazed. He only rolled his eyes at the cliché-ness of her words and watched Meg stand and finish her cigarette.

“I’ll see you around, Castiel.” Meg said, saluting the boy before turning to leave. “Stay crazy.” Castiel watched Meg leave, heading in the opposite direction of where they had been sitting together.

She left, and Castiel didn’t know how he felt. But he did know that his hand hurt and that Anna and Gabriel were probably freaking out waiting for him. He stood up quickly, taking off his sweater and wrapping it around his hand to hide the bloody gauze. He ran towards the parking lot, and to Gabriel’s car, where Anna and Gabriel were miraculously still waiting for him.

“Cas where the hell were you?” Anna asked, concern etched onto her face as he approached. She was back into the same boring clothes she left in this morning, looking a lot duller.

 “We’ve been calling you, it’s been almost a thirty minutes since school ended.” Gabriel said, confused.

“Sorry, I had to go over a test with a teacher.” Castiel mumbled, climbing into the car without another word. Anna and Gabriel shared a look before following.

“You could have at least answered our calls, dude.” Gabriel said quietly. “We were worried.”

“I apologize.” Castiel said, clutching his hand tightly. It hurt a lot more.

The drive back to their house was silent, except for a comment Anna made about smelling smoke. Castiel waited a few minutes before opening his window inconspicuously.

Meg was on his mind. Her dark clothes, hair, and attitude making his thoughts spin. She was strange, but also enticing. He wanted to see her again, to know her. He wanted to look at every scar on her body and hear the story behind each one. He wanted to know which ones were hers, which one’s weren’t. He wanted to _know_ Meg, and dammit, he wanted a pack of cigarettes.

When they got home, Zachariah wasn’t home yet. Naomi was awake, nursing a hangover in her bedroom until around four when she would get up to make herself look presentable before Zachariah got home. Michael and Luke were in their bedrooms, busy getting ready for their impending school year. They were commuting, sophomores in college now. They were going to a local university, not wanting to leave the hell-nest with sibling still left behind.

Anna and Gabriel did their homework and then, with their mother’s permission, started dinner. She allowed them, like she did on most days she was hungover, as long as they wouldn’t tell Zachariah. She didn’t work, and cleaning and cooking is all that Zachariah expected of her.

Castiel stayed up in his room, picked the glass out of his hand with a pair of Anna’s tweezers. There weren’t many small pieces, and they were all pretty shallow. It bled a lot, and it stung horribly when he disinfected it. He wrapped it up with some gauze he found in a med-kit under the sink. He would end up telling his family he accidentally burned himself on a Bunsen burner in Chemistry that day. They would all believe him and not bring it up again.

Later that night, when Castiel woke up from nightmares and felt like he was suffocating, he thought of Meg. He thought of what she said about the pain helping, and he squeezed his wrapped hand until he could smell the iron of it bleeding and he could breathe again.

And when a pair of forest green eyes and sun-kissed freckles decorated his thoughts for a split second, he squeezed even harder.

And after he carried his mother to bed yet another night in a row, despite his injured hand, he ran right into Luke in the kitchen right after. He watched Castiel with a harsh, disappointed look on his face, but Castiel didn’t let himself falter. He only stood up straighter, and with a ragged look, asked his brother if he had any cigarettes.

Luke looked at him like he was crazy, but when he realized he was serious, he grabbed a couple out of his secret pack and smoked wordlessly with his little brother on their back porch, in the dead of the night.

Castiel might have been a basket case, but his family was made up of them. And once he realized that, he didn’t feel so heavy.


	4. Chapter 3: Bad Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wasn't sure if I was going to add individual chapter warnings, but I feel that I should for certain things. So just a warning, there will be some graphic self-harm in this chapter. 
> 
> Oh, and since I just started posting this story yesterday, I wanted to get several chapters up before I started updating more regularly. As of right now, I have it planned that I am going to upload one, if not two more chapters tomorrow, and then I will probably update once or twice a week from then on. Just since I'm starting school again next week and weekly updates will work the best for me since I'm about to be hella busy. 
> 
> Thank you to all of you already leaving kudos and comments, I really appreciate it! :)

After sharing a cigarette with Meg that day behind the school, Castiel seemed to see her everywhere.

It began with seeing her in the hallway. She would walk passed him and tap him on the shoulder to grab his attention. The first couple times she did it, Castiel jerked away from the foreign touch. He wasn’t used to being seen as he walked through the hallway, and Meg went out of her way to see him.

Then, there was the lunch situation.

He was heading towards the art room when Meg cornered him.

“Where are you going?” She asked him, their first words since their conversation against the school’s brick wall.

“Um… To the art room.” He said, slightly stunned. Meg was staring at him with big brown and thickly lined eyes.

“Isn’t it your lunch period?” She asked suspiciously.

“Uh yeah. How did you-“

“You’re holding your lunch in your hands.” Meg interrupted simply.

“Oh.” Castiel replied, looking down at the brown paper bag.

“You don’t sit in the cafeteria?” She asked, and Castiel shook his head. “Me neither. Wanna go have a smoke?”

Castiel stood there for a moment, not sure if that was a good idea. It was one thing to take a couple drags off a cigarette after school, but another to completely ditch class. Albeit, it was his lunch period. But still, they weren’t allowed to smoke on school grounds. The thought of potential punishment made Castiel’s blood run cold, but also his heart speed up.

“You won’t get in trouble, I do it every day.” Meg said, answering the question Castiel was thinking.

“Okay then. I suppose it’s better than sitting in the art room.” Castiel agreed.

“Sweet, let’s go.” Meg said, excited. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the nearest exit. They went and sat where they had before, and Meg pulled out her pack and a lighter.

“Are you hungry?” Castiel asked, opening his lunch bag. Castiel usually made his own lunches so he didn’t have to go get food from the lunch line. (He kept his lunch money and saved it for other things).

Meg looked at him, a sly smile on her lips. She gestured to the cigarette in her hand. ”Always hungry for something.”

“Do you not have a lunch?” Castiel asked her, seriously.

Meg shook her head. “Nah, my dad doesn’t do a whole lot of grocery shopping.” She said, bringing the lit cigarette to her lips. “I give whatever I can scrounge up to my sister.”

“You have a sister?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, her name is Ruby. She’s a freshman, four years younger than me..” Meg said, leaning against the wall.

“You’re a senior?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” She said, handing Castiel the square. “But yes.”

“Sorry.” Castiel said sheepishly. He reached inside his lunch bag and pulled out a sandwich. He put his hand out, trying to get Meg to take a half. She took it, hesitantly, and bit into it.

“Don’t be sorry.” Meg said, in between bites of peanut butter and jelly. “Never be sorry for being curious.”

They finished Castiel’s lunch and Meg’s cigarette in silence, and then they bid their farewells to get back to class just as the bell ring. Their little lunch dates became an everyday thing, and Castiel always saw them as the highlight of his day.

Meg was a change in current for Castiel. Living sixteen years of darkness and conformity was a heavy weight on top of him, and Meg helped to lift it. Even if just for an hour or two, with a cigarette in his good hand, Castiel felt relieved of a lot of stress.

Of course, he knew there was a level of danger when it came to Meg. She was a catastrophe, hell-bent on destruction. She was crazy, in some aspects. Her self-harming habits were concerning, and she often spoke of a poor home life. An abusive father, absent mother. A sister who she cared for, but was going through a rebellious stage. Meg put up a care-free attitude, but Castiel knew it was a sham. She was, as she had so kindly pointed out, a basket case. But so was Castiel. Hell, Castiel was arguably an even bigger basket case. So he let Meg pull him along, let her show him the doors to darkness. She had the key, after all. All she was waiting for was permission to enter.

Meg was a hot fire you waved your hand through, despite the possibility of getting burned. She was the car crash you couldn’t pull your eyes away from. She was hell, she was heaven. She was divine sin and everything in between. A martyr and savior. She was a walking tragedy, a tornado that destroyed unforgivingly and picked up debris as it went. She didn’t apologize, she didn’t care enough. Meg Masters was a beautiful disaster, a one way ticket to hell, and Castiel was traveling lost. So he let her pull him along, because she was bitter and sweet, and everything he wasn’t supposed to be.

If his father were to find out he was hanging out with a girl like Meg, he’d send Castiel back to divine therapy, no doubt. And that was a terrifying thought, especially after what happened to allow him to stop going. But there was something so enticing about being around her. Castiel was tired of living in his father’s dark shadow. And Meg was no beacon of light, but she was something. And Castiel was desperate for a scenery change.

Of course, Meg wasn’t the only one impacting him in strange, new ways.

Dean Winchester, of all people, made an appearance in his life he had not expected. Of course, Dean was a senior like Meg and therefore they shared no academic classes. But, he seemed to also be seeing him everywhere.

Their Gym period, where they didn’t share a class but they did share a locker room. Hallways, the parking lot, before and after school. Hell, even at the drugstore the other day when Gabriel made him come with him to get some candy. Dean was oblivious, of course. His moment of kindness after Gordon’s wrathful treatment towards Castiel was only that. A moment of kindness. It didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t a step in motion for potential friendship. And Castiel knew that. Because as cliché as it sounded, why would someone like Dean want anything to do with someone like Castiel? And even if Dean did want to initiate some kind of friendship with him, he knew it would be a bad idea.

And yet, there was a feeling that he just could not shake. It was a nagging headache, one he couldn’t get rid of. Dean Winchester was everywhere, and nowhere at the same time. He was in Castiel’s thoughts, but not in his life. And that was probably for the better. But still, Castiel found himself constantly thinking about forest-like eyes and golden freckles.

Meg teased Castiel about it often, for even she wasn’t immune to Dean’s striking appearance. Castiel down-played it, shrugged it off. Because no, he was a good Catholic boy. And to him, there was nothing attractive about a dirty blonde teenage boy with skin like the sun and wild, green eyes. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Life wasn’t easier. It would never get easier. But for the time being, Castiel was on a steady dissent downward, and it was so much better than an uphill battle. He let himself slowly fall into Meg’s thorny arms, gave into some bad habits. Meg was no role-model, but she was right on many things. With cigarette smoke in his lungs and a bleeding scar on his palm, Castiel was starting to see things clearer.

Things weren’t bad, until they were.

It was a Wednesday in early October when Castiel came home from a run. The weather was still nice enough to go jogging in, but when winter came, Castiel wouldn’t have the privilege of escaping to the outdoors anymore.

Zachariah’s car wasn’t in the driveway, which was a relief. He probably would be home soon, though. When Castiel entered the Novak house, he was met with a delicious smell. Someone was undoubtedly cooking.

Castiel took out his headphones and turned to head for the stairs, to shower before dinner. But he heard whispers in the kitchen, and something about them perked his interest.

He slowly crept towards the kitchen entryway, leaning against the wall to try and hear the conversation. He knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he heard his name and his curiosity spiked. If it was just his mother’s silly gossip, he’d turn and leave it be. If it was Michael and Luke arguing in a hushed tone, so as not to disturb their mother, Castiel would retreat as quickly as possible. But instead, he heard Michael and his mother conversing.

“I really think you need to consider this.” Michael said, voice quiet and steady.

“It’s not my place to make decisions without your father’s input.” Naomi responded blandly, and Castiel could hear plates and pots moving as his mother was most likely putting dinner together.

“That’s not a good enough excuse.” Michael’s voice was harsher now. “If we asked him, he’d wave it off without even listening to what we have to say.”

“Are you questioning your father’s authority over what happens to his own child?” Naomi responded, defensive as ever.

“No- Actually… I might be. When it comes to the mental health and over all well-being of my little brother, I might.” There was a moment of silence after Michael’s little outburst. Castiel waited patiently, listening. “I know you worry about him too. I know that you see beyond Dad’s cover up stories. I know you know that Castiel is suffering, and that he needs help.”

Michael’s words hit Castiel like a damn semi-truck. He didn’t know what kind of emotion to feel. Anger, sadness, terror. Maybe a mix of them all?

“So what do you suppose we do?” Naomi asked, and Castiel sensed a tiredness in her voice.

“I have a friend who recommended me a specialist. They say she is one of the best out there. She works with teens who have gone through… Hard times, per say.” Michael said, speaking softer now.

“And if we send him to see her, what will we tell your father? Do you expect me to lie to him when he sees it on our insurance?” Naomi asked.

“She said she’s interested in this case and that she’ll work out a special deal for us. I’ll pay for it upfront. No bother with insurance or anything. You won’t need to spend a dime. Dad will never know.” Michael replied.

“That’s illegal. And how you plan on paying for it?” Naomi asked, unconvinced.

Michael shook his head “The legality is not your concern, and I won’t be paying for all of it. Luke and Gabriel said they’d help pitch in. Even Anna, if need be.”

Naomi stayed silent for a moment. “So you and your brothers and sister have come up with this plan?”

“Yes.” Michael confirmed. “Castiel has been through a lot. If we all keep pretending nothing ever happened and that everything is fine, like Dad, he is going to get worse. And none of us want to do that. I was hoping you didn’t either.”

“Of course I don’t!” Naomi said incredulously.

“Then prove it.” Michael said, a challenge in his tone. He stood up before Naomi could respond, and Castiel sprinted up the stairs before Michael could catch him listening.

He ran into his room, just for a moment, waiting to hear for Michael coming up the stairs. Once Michael opened his door, Castiel moved quickly, preventing the door from shutting with his hand.

“We need to talk.” Castiel bit, shoving the door open further.

Michael backed up hesitantly, surprised at Castiel’s apparent anger. “What is it?”

“What the hell was that?” Castiel seethed.

Michael waited a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Castiel said, pointing downward to approximately where the kitchen would be below them. “Down in the kitchen just now.”

“You heard that…” Michael said, trailing off.

“I did.” Castiel said, anger rising higher and higher. “I don’t know if it escaped your mind while you were taking your usual role as The Good, Upstanding Brother and trying to fix me, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’m not some broken, fragile being who needs everyone going around and fighting my battles for me!”

“Castiel, please calm down.” Michael asked, voice low.

“No!” Castiel responded. He took a step towards Michael. “I can’t believe you. After everything, after all that has happened, and you are just like Dad. Trying to send me to see a ‘specialist’ so that they might duct tape and safety pin me back together.”

“I am _not_ like Dad!” Michael said, voice rising louder now. Castiel could hear the doors in the hallway opening, his siblings approaching. “I would never force you into doing something against your will! Dad is a controlling and ignorant man, and I didn’t realize it until I saw what it did to you. I’m not trying to change who you are, I’m trying to help you get better because you’re my family. Forget Mom and Dad. It’s Luke, Gabriel, Anna, you, and I. That’s our family. You are not okay, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But this woman, she’s real and certified. Not a priest with a rosary who claims to be heaven-sent.”

Castiel squeezed his fists, biting back tears. He cried too much, he swore to himself he would not cry now. There was a bitter truth and appeal in his brother’s words. Castiel took a deep breath. “When?”

“What?” Michael asked, still out of breath from his rant.

“When is the appointment scheduled for?” Castiel asked.

“I haven’t scheduled one yet. I was going to ask you about it.”

Castiel huffed, feeling guilty for getting angry with Michael when he was only trying to do well by his little brother. “I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t want you to go if you don’t-“

“I’m going. Have it scheduled for the weekend if you can.” Castiel replied monotonously, turning to walk out of Michael’s room and towards his. He heard Michael call after him, but it was all dull noise now.

Anna, Gabriel, and Luke were standing in the hallway listening, but they scurried back to their rooms when Castiel appeared before them. All but Luke, who wordlessly handed him the rest of his pack of cigarettes and giving him a soft look. Castiel looked at the pack as he shut and locked his bedroom door.

He hid the cigarettes in his sock drawer. Not interested in smoking them if he wasn’t with Meg. Of course it would help with the stressed feeling in his gut, but he let them be.

Instead he sat on his bed, unsure of what to do. He didn’t know how he felt about going to see a therapist. After last time, all external sources of mental help were the last thing Castiel wanted. His past with ‘specialists’ weren’t very… successful.

All kinds of anxieties scratched around inside him, the blood in his head pounding louder and louder. Waves of nausea rolled over him, he couldn’t breathe, so he opened a window. But then he was freezing and shaking, so he closed it. He was restless, and he only wished to be at rest. He wanted to lay down and sleep, but God, he was trembling too hard.

He thought about Meg, thought about all the things she told him she did when she felt this way.

_“I usually smoke a cigarette first, sometimes it does the trick for a little while. But sometimes it’s the last thing I wanna do. Then there’s weed, and that’s even better. But sometimes my hands shake too hard to be able to pack a bowl or roll a blunt.” Meg said. They were behind the school again, Meg’s head was in Castiel’s lap and they were passing a cigarette between them. It was warmer out today, and they were enjoying the last of the fall air before winter came and their outdoor lunch dates would draw to a close. Meg had her sleeves rolled up, scars shown. There were some fresher ones, still wrapped up._

_“So what do you do?” Castiel asked, gazing up at the sky._

_“What do_ you _do?” Meg countered._

_Castiel shrugged. “I cry, sit in the dark for a while until the feelings go away and I can breathe again. Then I’m so tired I can sleep.”_

_“I used to do that too.” Meg said._

_“What about now?” Castiel wondered._

_“Well I found cigarettes and razor blades.” Meg said in a sing-song voice. Castiel hummed, not so much in approvement as much as in understanding. “It’s a quicker fix, ya’ know?”_

_“Does cutting really help?” Castiel asked curiously._

_“For some, sure. It’s really just cancelling out an old bad habit for a new one. But that’s what it’s like for us. A neve rending cycle of bad habits.” Meg replied, and as usual, Castiel was astonished by her always so philosophical mentalities._

_“So by that logic, does that make you my ultimate bad habit?” Castiel asked, gesturing to the cigarette and still-healing hand whose wound he continually aggravated._

_“Guess so.” Meg said, smiling up at him._

Meg was his bad habit, and Castiel was having withdrawals. And since there was no Meg around, he would have to find a substitute.

His mother called them all down for dinner, since Zachariah was probably just getting home. But Castiel knew he could not handle being around his family right now, so he texted Anna, telling her to tell everyone he wasn’t feeling very well.

Once the upstairs was empty, he retreated to the bathroom. The cuts on his palms from the glass bottle were mostly healed and no longer hurting. So he dug around in the drawers, searching for something, anything that was sharp. None of them had electric razors, but there were a few disposable ones underneath the sink. He took one out, spent about five, frustrating minutes trying to pry out the razors with dull scissors. It took forever, and his fingertips were cut up and bleeding by the end of it due to how hard he was shaking. But he got three out, and was greatly satisfied.

He turned on the shower, letting the bathroom rise up with hot steam. Stripping himself of his clothes down to only his boxers, he stood before the mirror staring at his trembling reflection. It made everything worse, so he sat down with his back to the icy bathtub and tried to gather his thoughts.

Meg’s cuts were always parallel horizontal lines on her wrists. She had shown him some on her hips and thighs, even on her stomach. But Castiel wasn’t particular about where he did it, only curious to see if it honestly helped in the way Meg said it did.

The first cut was shallow, only about an inch long and bubbling crimson red within minutes. It was a strange feeling, and Castiel winced when he dragged the razor along his skin. He did it a couple more times, deeper and longer as he went. And when he was finished and there was blood dripping down his left wrist and onto the tiled floor, Castiel was astounded that he was no longer shaking. Everything was clearer, and yeah, the cuts had stung a bit. But it was breathtaking, in the most fucked up way. The blood pooling and spilling. Castiel could breathe, in fact he felt so much better. It wasn’t the euphoria he was expecting, but there was still this sense of relief.

It was nice for a few minutes, as he stared up at the white ceiling with the shower running and the warmth all around him. But then he was back to his senses, and he was desperately grabbing for tissue paper and wrapping his arm. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but regret and guilt tugged at him.

He showered, just to get the blood off of him and to make sure the cuts were clean. And then he wrapped them with some gauze in the medical kit beneath the sink. He wasn’t trembling, he didn’t feel fear clawing up his throat and over his shoulder, tingling down his spine to his toes. He felt calmer, peacefully watching the blood like an artist watching paint dry on a canvas.

For once, he slept peacefully. And yes, the circumstances weren’t very healthy. But Castiel’s life was all kinds of fucked up, so did it really matter if he added another fucked up thing to it?

He fell asleep with a stinging feeling on his wrist and tranquility in his mind. And he liked it much better that way.


	5. Chapter 4: Deal with the Devil

“Hey Novak!”

Castiel froze, jaw clenching at the sound of a familiar voice calling his name. The hallway was clearing now, as the school day was over and everyone was leaving, and Castiel swore beneath his breath at his idiocy. If he hadn’t forgotten his jacket in his locker and had to go back, he would have been lost with the crowd of students rushing out the building.

But no, fate just wanted to see Castiel’s life continue to spiral downward. So there he was, standing in an empty hallway just after school ended, with Gordon Walker and friends steadily approaching him. He turned around slowly, standing up straighter to at least put on a strong face and appear less fragile.

“Yes?” He asked, trying to mask the fear in his voice. He knew this was coming. After his run-in with the three varsity players only days ago, he knew he’d have to face them again. And this time, he hoped he wouldn’t be stricken with fear that would leave him mute and unable to defend himself. Castiel saw Dean trailing behind them, for once not leading the pack of wolves but looking like the reluctant runt forced to tag along in a hunt. Castiel swallowed, he hadn’t spoken to Dean directly since he helped Castiel behind the school with his hand, and yet he was still a ray of sunlight in the oncoming storm.

“Haven’t seen you around lately. You do a pretty good job of laying low.” Gordon said, a dark grin pulling at his lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been avoiding us.”

Castiel squinted at the boy, not fully comprehending why Gordon was acting like this was some sort of game. “Not necessarily. I’ve only been going to my regularly scheduled classes.”

Gordon huffed at him. “Well, good to know this won’t be a cat and mouse chase then.”

“What are you-“

Gordon shoved Castiel backwards, and the instant his hands landed on Castiel’s chest, all strength and confidence Castiel had gone into this with was gone.

“Usually we don’t pursue random nerds who think their shit don’t stink, but something about you just gets under my skin.” Gordon seethed.

“Trust me… The feeling is mutual.” Castiel spat with his last shred of dignity, backing away from the three boys.

Gordon laughed, looking at Benny and Dean as if to coax them into laughing to. Benny let out a little huff, but Castiel could see Benny wasn’t really following along. Dean remained silent, trying to look everywhere else but at Castiel.

“Word’s going around that you’ve been seen talking to Meg Masters.” Gordon said, looking at Castiel with suggestive eyes. “I guess it makes sense, the two school emo’s hanging around each other. Tell me, do you guys share razor blades?”

A rush of cold heat ran down Castiel’s body, and he felt a wave a panic settle in. No one knew about his one isolated incident the night before. He wrapped his wrist and wore a couple leather bracelets, nothing too distracting as if to draw attention. No one even looked his way in gym, when he wasn’t wearing a long sleeved-shirt. He knew Meg didn’t care if people saw, but Castiel was careful. There was too much to risk if someone found out. But there was no way Gordon could know, he had to be only teasing him.

“Tell _me_ , Gordon. Do you have anything better to do with your life than terrorizing others? You know what they say about bullies, that they’re actually the most insecure.” Castiel said condescendingly. He didn’t know where this air of confidence, and relatively stupid wit, was coming from. But it was dangerous, and Castiel knew that when he saw Gordon’s face change from mild teasing annoyance to anger.

Gordon swung just as Castiel noticed the amused looks on Dean and Benny’s faces. The punch hurt, but Castiel was more worried about the bruise it was going to leave. Along with the several others he would have after the many other punches Gordon got in. His nose was bleeding, and he would have dark purple marks on his stomach as well.

Castiel got in a few of his own good punches, kicking Gordon off him and swinging. Gordon would probably get a black eye, and his lip was split. But it was more self-defense than anything. So he let Gordon get it out of his system and watched as Benny ripped him away and dragged him away still kicking and screaming like a child having a temper tantrum.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it some day you little fucker! Keep up that attitude and I’ll make sure to beat you into next week, faggot.” Gordon yelled, fighting to get back at Castiel who was sitting limp against the lockers.

“Fuck you, Gordon.” Castiel sputtered, blood boiling at the homophobic slur. His face was killing him, and he struggled to speak with blood in his mouth. But watching the redness take over Gordon’s features as Benny dragged him away before he could get in the last word, was totally worth the pain.

Castiel coughed for a solid thirty seconds, fearing a broken rib. Gordon was a savage when it came to fighting, once he had Castiel knocked down on the ground he went crazy. And Castiel wasn’t much of a fighter, so he took most of it. His words were venomous enough to still leave a sting though. Castiel was just surprised he managed to make Gordon Walker of all people, that flustered and angry. He was proud of himself for not breaking down like last time. He was getting stronger now, but he didn’t think it would last.

He groaned, trying to sit up to get his bag. Gabriel was staying after for a cooking club meeting he had, and Anna got a ride home from a friend. Castiel had agreed to wait in the library until Gabriel texted him he was done. He had actually been on his way to the area behind the school where Meg was waiting for him, before Gordon jumped him in the hallway.

“I’m noticing a trend here.” A voice said from above him, and Castiel’s heart nearly stopped.

Dean was kneeling in front of him, a towel from his football bag in his hand. He was trying to hand it to Castiel, most likely to help stop the bloody nose. Castiel moved away cautiously, and he cursed himself for now feeling his nerves creep up on him.

“I didn’t know you had a mouth like that.” Dean said after a few moments. “I haven’t seen anyone make Gordon that mad in a long time.”

“Well, he was being quite the asshole.” Castiel said, voice quiet and weak with humor. Dean smiled softly, and Castiel felt his heart twist. Castiel reached for his cut wrist, squeezing it tightly. He couldn’t have those thoughts.

“You’ve got me there.” Dean said, reaching the towel out to Castiel again. “Just be careful. I won’t always be here to make sure you don’t bleed out after he kicks the shit out of you.”

Castiel frowned. “You didn’t seem very pleased with his decision to terrorize me.”

Dean shrugged, leaning over to help pick up Castiel’s books which had scattered everywhere. Castiel watched, gently pressing the towel to his nose to stop the blood flow. “He holds grudges for stupid shit, like some kind of egotistical alpha male. I don’t. I think there’s more important stuff to be doing than this.”

“But you still stand by?”

Dean looked away sheepishly. “It ain’t right, I know that. And it ain’t fair to you. But he’s the captain, and if I don’t go along with it, he could get pissed at me and I could lose my spot on the team. Even Benny doesn’t care for all the fighting, but he goes just in case things get too rough.”

Castiel stayed silent for a moment, watching Dean stack up his books and place them next to Castiel’s legs. He kept the towel against his nose, feeling pain begin to blossom all over his face. “I suppose it is nice of you to at least help me now.”

“Yeah well, I figure you deserve it. There isn’t much I can do to get Gordon to let it go, but I can try to help.” Dean said, he looked up at Castiel and reached forward.

Castiel flinched away immediately, but Dean insisted, just as he had with his hand the last time. He placed his hands underneath Cas’ chin and pushed it to each side gently, examining Castiel’s maimed face. He was focused on that, and Castiel was just trying to focus on his currently stunted breathing.

“You’ll live. Nothing looks broken.” Dean shrugged again. “You might wanna watch your back though. If Gordon was just kinda pissed before, he’ll be furious now.”

Dean stood up, reaching down to help Castiel stand. Castiel ignored his reaching hands and stood up on his own, wobbling a bit. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, and Castiel almost shuddered at the touch. He ignored his hammering heart and reached for his back pack.

“I’ll manage, thank you.” Castiel said. He looked up at Dean, into the steady green eyes staring at him. He was lost, couldn’t break the eye contact, not that Dean was making much of an effort to either.

“So um… You _are_ hanging around Meg Masters then?” Dean asked, finally looking away and at the ground. He looked embarrassed to be asking such a random and personal question. Castiel just furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Yes, I suppose I would consider her a friend.” Castiel said, distant now.

Dean nodded, pursing his lips. “Just… I don’t know, be careful I guess? I’ve heard she’s trouble. And you’re… Well you’re-“

“I’m _what_?” Castiel asked, almost bitterly. He didn’t like where this was headed.

“You’re just… You. Not… Trouble. If that makes sense?” Dean said, letting out a frustrated breath. He wouldn’t look at Castiel, but Castiel still stared at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Castiel let out a deep sigh, picking up his books, the bloody rag which he had been using for his no longer bleeding nose in one hand. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not judge a book by its cover?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, but this is different. You’re a _Novak_ , you go to Church and do well by the community, and you’re top of the class, the whole shebang. I don’t know man, you’re just… Not crazy like she is.”

Castiel was stunned to know that Dean knew all of this about him. But still he shook his head, sensing the stinging on his wrist once again. “Nothing is as it seems. Don’t hold me to that statement.” He wished it were that simple, that he could be the picture perfect Novak everyone thought he to be. “Goodbye, Dean Winchester.”

Turning to walk away, Castiel’s entire demeanor had changed. Whatever confidence he had when he fought Gordon was faded, and he just wanted to see Meg so that he might be able to choke on smoke rather than his own nervousness.

“Cas, wait- “ He heard Dean say, only stopping in his tracks because Dean sounded quite demanding and Castiel didn’t feel like defying another football player today. Plus he called him Cas, and Dean Winchester using a nickname only ever having been used by people close to him, made his whole body tremble.

“What do you want?” Castiel asked, becoming mildly irritated.

Dean walked up to him, football gear in hand and determination on his features. “I’ll try to get Gordon to stop.” He said breathlessly. “…Be Careful. Around Meg I mean. She’s weird but her friends are weirder.”

Castiel was getting progressively more annoyed. “Meg is nice to me, she’s my friend. So I find it rather peculiar that you’re warning me about her friends, when it is your friends who have now physically assaulted me twice.”

Dean was stunned into silence for a few moments before he let out a nervous laugh. “You’re right. Sorry. I’ll uh- I’ll catch you later. Make sure to ice your face so it doesn’t swell.” Dean waved goodbye quickly, turning around and sulking off.

Castiel stood there for a minute, dumbfounded by Dean’s sudden farewell. He just shook his head in exasperation and walked towards the door to meet Meg. Dean Winchester was possibly stranger than she was.

“There you are! I thought you weren’t gonna show- whoa. What happened to your face?” Meg asked, standing up from her spot against the wall and rushing over to Castiel.

“Gordon Walker can go to hell.” Is all Castiel said as Meg guided him to sit down. She took the rag out of his hand.

“What did you do? And where did you get this?’ Meg asked, referring to the rag as she held in her hand and was pouring water onto from her water bottle to help wipe away the blood all over his face.

“Dean Winchester.” Castiel replied, lifting the rag and wincing when Meg touched his face. The rag was already covered in blood from his bloody nose, but there were a few clean spots she used to wipe off the remaining excess.

“How romantic, I can hear the wedding bells already.” Meg teased, and Castiel rolled his eyes.

“He felt bad.”

“He should feel worse for letting it happen.” Meg scolded. “I’ll have to knock some sense into him tomorrow.”

“You talk to him?” Castiel asked.

Meg shrugged. “We have a couple classes together. He’s at my lab table for Physics. We don’t talk, but looks like we have a common interest to converse about.” Meg winked at Castiel.

“Please don’t.”

“What? I was just gonna threaten him. A little. And then try to establish some dominance over you. After all, I called dibs first. And I’m not above peeing on you to mark my territory if it comes down to it.” Meg joked, and Castiel huffed out a laugh right before groaning as she brushed over a particularly sore spot.

“Yikes, that’s gonna be one hell of a wicked bruise.” Meg observed. “And I’m kidding. I won’t establish any dominance but I will try to knock some sense into him.”

“Just leave it alone, Meg. There’s no use. He said he’d try to get Gordon to stop, but it’s unlikely.” Castiel could feel his whole face aching, especially his cheekbone and jaw. There was no doubt it would be black and blue tomorrow. He let out another groan. “How am I going to hide this from my parents?”

Meg shrugged. “I wish I knew, but I don’t have that problem. Good luck.”

“Do you think my nose is broken?” Castiel asked, now more afraid. He didn’t want to have to take a trip to the doctor’s when his parents found out.

“Nah, I’ve had my nose broken and you’d be in a lot more pain.”

“How’d you break your nose?” Castiel asked.

“That, my friend, is a story for another day.”

Castiel nodded. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“Duh.”

Meg lit the cigarette, handing it over to Castiel instantly. Within the first couple drags, he already felt better. He looked ahead, staring at the football field where the players were going over drills.

“I hate Gordon Walker.”

“Me too.” Meg agreed. “Please tell me he’s gonna have a shiner or _something._ ”

Castiel nodded, smiling proudly. “I busted his lip too.”

“That’s my boy.” Meg smiled, wrapping an arm lazily around Castiel’s shoulder. “We should celebrate. What are you doing this weekend?”

“Oh, I was going to mention this to you anyways. I have a therapy session scheduled on Saturday.” Castiel said, taking another drag off the shrinking square.

Meg looked at him sharply, her proud face slipping into shock and what appeared to be fear. “Wait, really?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. My brothers and sister are concerned. Even my mother wants me to go.”

Meg took a deep breath. “Do you think it’s gonna help?”

“Probably not.” Castiel admitted. “I mean, she actually has a degree in psychology so that’s a plus. She’s supposed to be a specialist for troubled teens. From what I have heard, she’s good.”

Meg nodded slowly. “It’s probably for the better.”

Castiel furrowed his brows, and looked at Meg in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Shrugging, Meg inhaled smoke and blew it out slowly. Castiel watched, transfixed. “We’re a lot alike, Clarence.” Castiel frowned at the nickname she had picked up for him when he told her he was named after an angel. _Have you seen A Wonderful Life?! I love that movie!_ “But you… You could have a good future. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m going nowhere in life, but you, you’re gonna go places. You’re not in deep enough to not be able to climb back out.”

Castiel shook his head furiously. “You’re wrong.”

“No I’m not. I know I have no future, and I’m okay with that. But if you have the opportunity to get the help you need, take it.” Meg said. “You don’t wanna end up like me. With a 2.0 GPA, cuts and scars all over my body and bad drug habits.”

“What if I don’t want help?” Castiel asked slowly. “What if I’m in deeper than I thought?”

Meg looked up at Castiel in confusion. “How so?”

Castiel took a deep breath, pulling up his sleeves and removing the bracelets and wrap to reveal his wrist. It stung, and started to bleed again at the harsh contact he had made. The cuts weren’t terrible, progressively getting deeper as he went down. There were only half a dozen or so, all horizontal. Meg took a sharp intake of breath and inhaled her cigarette for a long time.

“For being so smart, you’re really an idiot, you know that?” Meg said, voice hoarse from zeroing the cigarette.

Castiel shook his head, re-wrapping his arm. “I don’t care. I thought I’d try it out, and I liked it, as crazy as that is. I’ve been lost for these past few years after… After a really bad experience. And then I lost a close friend of mine. I don’t want to get better. I don’t care about ‘going places’ and living life to the fullest. I want to be careless and reckless. I don’t want to just exist, I want to _live_. Because I don’t know how long I am going to be able to hold out. Nothing else matters anymore. So… So pass me another cigarette and keep slowly killing me.”

“You do realize you’re basically signing a deal with the devil if you keep hanging out with me? I mean I like you, Clarence. But I’m not trying to drag you down with me.” Meg said, hesitant. Her angelic nickname for him was starting to become ironic.

“I’m okay if you do though.” Castiel countered.

Meg sighed. “So this is the titanic then? We’re on a sinking ship and we’re going down together?”

Castiel nodded. “I suppose so.” He let out a shaky laugh, flicking off ash from his cigarette. “I’m no longer scared to die. I’m only afraid to keep living the way I have been.”

Meg put her hand around Castiel’s neck and pulled him in swiftly. She smashed her lips against his for only a second, smoke all around them. She pulled away, wiping her lips and smiling over at him.

“What was that?” Castiel asked, shocked.

“You sold your soul to me, and we just sealed the deal.” Meg said, grinding the butt of the cigarette onto the pavement.

Castiel sat there, silent for several moments. He looked up, scanning around them since he didn’t know how to respond. His eyes landed on a football player on the field, number sixty-seven, who was staring up at them from afar. Castiel cocked his head to the side, surprised to realize that it was Dean staring at him and Meg. He probably saw them kiss, and a tug of satisfaction pulled at him. Knowing Dean saw him kiss someone else made him feel a sense of sick pride.

“Would you like to do something tomorrow night?” Castiel asked after a minute or two. He glanced at Meg, raising his eyebrows. It would be Friday, and his parents would likely be out somewhere and not concerned with his whereabouts.

“Sure.” Meg said. “My place? I could show you things better than just regular squares.” She said, referencing to the pack of cigarettes in her hand.

Castiel nodded slowly. “Whatever you want to do, I’m open to.”

Luke would probably be okay with taking him, and hopefully he wouldn’t mind picking Castiel up if he was intoxicated. At least Castiel knew Luke wouldn’t tell on him for being drunk or high.

“Alright, I’ll text you my address.” Meg replied. Castiel wrote down his number on a sheet of paper and handed it to her, just as Gabriel texted him telling him he was done with his meeting.

“Okay. I have to go.” Castiel said, and Meg stood up. She kissed him again, a small peck.

“Is it okay if I do that?” Meg asked, noticing his discomfort.

“I… I don’t know.” Castiel replied honestly. He hadn’t ever considered kissing Meg, and he wouldn’t say he hated it, but he didn’t lust after it either.

“We don’t have to do it again. I don’t wanna date you or anything, but kissing can be nice.” Meg said, nonchalantly. Castiel didn’t respond. “Unless, of course you don’t swing my way?”

Castiel’s eyes bulged. “That’s not...I haven’t…”

“It’s alright if you don’t. Seeing the way you look at Green Eyes made me suspicious.” Meg let out a little giggle.

“Gordon called me a faggot today.” Castiel sputtered out.

“Well… Are you?” Meg asked. “Those are rather rude terms, but same meaning I guess.”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Castiel admitted, looking away. He didn’t want to talk about it, he did not want to get into this of all things.

“Sexuality is a dumb thing if you ask me, all that labeling. But if you want to get them off your ass then we could always hold hands and say we’re together. It doesn’t have to be serious, but it’ll keep them from calling you names and assuming shit.”

Castiel thought for a moment. “I have no problem with that.”

Meg smiled, kissing him on the cheek one last time. “Cool. I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow then, my official not-boyfriend.”

“Yes, until then, goodbye Meg.” Castiel shook his head in amusement and gave one last wave of his hand before turning around and heading towards the parking lot.

His mind was a clutter, tons of thoughts screaming at him. He was stressed about how he was going to explain to his family the circumstances of the bruises on his face. He was anxious about hanging out with Meg tomorrow, because just like Meg said, he basically sold his soul. Meg was going to corrupt him in every way, and Castiel didn't know if he cared or not. And that brought on a whole new wave of confusion, because Meg had kissed him. Three times. And Castiel didn't know how he felt about that.

Of course he liked Meg, of course she was beautiful and lovely (even if she was scary at the same time). And she was nice to Castiel, nicer than anyone had been to him in a long time. But in the couple weeks that they had been hanging around each other, not once had he thought of kissing her, or holding her hand.

Meg had said she wasn’t trying to date him or anything, and Castiel felt a flood of relief hit him with that. But now they were basically fake dating, as a way to get the football players, particularly Gordon, off his back. Being called a faggot made Castiel’s chest hurt and his palms sweat. He hated that word. He hated that Gordon thought that accusing Castiel of being gay would be an appropriate way to terrorize him. In Castiel's personal opinion, there was nothing wrong with not being straight, but it still hit Castiel on a personal level.

And then, there was Dean Winchester. Who for whatever reason, continued to treat Castiel kindly. That struck Castiel for a loop, because he had assumed Dean to go right along with his friends in torturing him. But no, he just _had_ to be nice. And now Castiel couldn’t get him out of his head.

“Hey- what the hell?!” Castiel heard, being pulled from his thoughts at the shrieking sound of Gabriel. He went from leaning against his car to up in Castiel’s space in .2 seconds, and Castiel was shocked back into remembering that _Shit, I need to come up with some sort of explanation for this._

“Uh, I can explain-“

“Yeah you better!”

“Well, you see… There was this incident, and it’s nothing to be concerned about, however I guess it is a peculiar situation so-“

“Cas,” Gabriel interrupted Castiel’s stalling. “Who did it?”

Any effort Castiel was going to put forth into making up a worthy lie completely died out, and Castiel let out a heavy breath before confessing. “Gordon Walker.”

“That fucker?! He’s dead, he’s so fucking-“

“Gabe, please don’t. It’ll only make things worse. Besides, I have it all under control.”

“Please tell that to the bruised cheekbone and swollen, bloody nose you have!” Gabriel said, much louder now. “I swear to God, I will kill him.”

“Isn’t it paradoxical to swear to God that you are going to kill someone?” Castiel asked in discontent.

“Cas, shut up.” Gabriel responded, pointing a finger at his younger brother. He began pacing, looking flustered. “What are we gonna tell mom and dad?”

“The truth?” Castiel asked hopelessly.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s just gonna fly right by dad with no problem at all.” Gabriel said, sarcasm dripping in every syllable.

Castiel leaned against the car. “What do you suppose I do then, Gabriel?”

“No one’s gonna buy any story that you fell or tripped or something.” Gabriel huffed. “Guess the truth it is. You better hope that dad doesn’t file a lawsuit against the Walkers.”

“Seeing as I hit him back, it doesn’t sound like there would be much of a case.” Castiel pointed out, giving a guilty look at his brother.

“You did what?!” Gabriel asked, and Castiel was getting sick of his outraged tone. Gabriel took a few deep breaths. “How bad?”

“Black eye, busted lip.” Castiel responded with a small air of cockiness.

“I don’t know if I want to pat you on the back or hit you some more.” Gabriel said in honest confusion. “Whatever, let’s get you home and pray that Dad doesn’t lose his shit.”

The drive home was filled with Gabriel pestering Castiel about the fight, asking for gory details and going from a reprimanding brother to a proud teacher. “Good thing we taught you how to throw a punch, huh Cassie?”

When they arrived home, their father was nowhere to be found. But their mother was immediately freaking out.

“What in God’s good name happened to you?” She asked as Castiel entered the kitchen. She didn’t even listen for a response before dragging Castiel by his arm to the sink and wetting a rag to get all the crusted blood Meg had missed off. Michael and Anna were seated at the table, watching in confusion and worry.

“I may have gotten into a… Disagreement of the sorts, with a fellow student.” Castiel said, not meeting his mother’s concerned eyes.

“And what was this ‘disagreement’, about?” Naomi questioned, fussing over his bruised and bloodied skin, muttering about blood stains on his dress shirt.

“He just doesn’t like me, and from what I know he has immense anger issues.” Castiel said, wincing as his mother patted his face with a wash cloth and checked to make sure his nose wasn’t broken.

Naomi stayed silent for a moment, finishing cleaning him up to the best of her abilities. She went to the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen corn, handing it to Castiel along with a few pain killers. “Well did you at least win the fight?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Castiel asked in exasperation, immediately putting the frozen bag against his face and hissing at the coldness. “But yes, I would say I won in some aspects.”

“So who was it?” Anna asked, guiding him to sit at the table beside her, where she was working on homework.

“Gordon Walker.” Castiel mumbled, laying his head on the table on top of the corn.

“That asshole?” Anna gawked.

“Annael you watch your language!” Naomi reprimanded from her spot behind the counter.

“Sorry.” Anna called out, turning back around and mouthing _I’m not sorry_ at her brothers. Gabriel had joined the three with a big bowl of ice cream in his hands.

“Well, Castiel you seemed to have lucked out. Your father is working late tonight and won’t be home for dinner, and tomorrow we will be attending an office party for Sandover. So it looks as though you won’t have to explain to him until the weekend just how you got those bruises.” Naomi said, and Castiel breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Do you think they will fade mostly by then?” Anna asked, turning towards Castiel and reaching out to poke at the purpling bruise on his cheek. He flinched and swatted her hand away, scowling as she laughed teasingly.

“Hopefully.” He responded. But he knew, that even if they didn’t, his father probably wouldn’t be too concerned as long as the dilemma was handled and Castiel wasn’t in any trouble with the school.

The bruises were bad, but they would heal in time. But as Castiel was finding out, scars lasted a lot longer.


	6. Chapter 5: Eager for Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short, but the next one is very long. I will probably post it on Wednesday or Thursday. Also, I really love reading your guys' comments! If you have any more questions or want to chat, you can catch me on tumblr: worthycas  
> ~

Castiel had thought about how his mother would react to his swollen face, even worried about his father noticing. But he had not thought about what everyone at school would think.

It started out with confused looks as he, Anna, and Gabriel entered the front entrance. Teachers did double-takes at him, their surprised expressions contorting into concern.  Students gawked at him in disbelief. It was strange, the sudden attention. To be noticed, especially under these circumstances.

Anna hovered over him all day, as did Gabriel. They pretty much chauffeured him around, glaring daggers at anyone who stared for too long. Luckily, they never crossed paths with Gordon Walker. That would have been awkward.

Castiel finally managed some peace during his lunch period, when he told them he was just going to the art room, when really he was going to the back of the school to see Meg. He was headed in that direction, but not before stopping in the bathroom.

“How’s your face?” Castiel heard a husky voice ask behind him from where he was standing at the sink, washing his hands. His heart rate sky-rocketed. He whipped around, only to find Dean Winchester within five feet of him, staring at him with a tight, curious smile on his lips.

Castiel let out a sigh of relief, glad to not see Gordon standing behind him as he had feared. “It hurts.”

Dean stepped forward, lifting a hand but stopping half way and letting it drop with a frustrated series of facial expressions. As though he was going to reach up and touch Castiel’s face before deciding against it. Castiel watched in confusion.

“Yeah well, at least you’re not deformed or anything.” Dean joked. Castiel didn’t say anything. Dean coughed and stuffed his hands in his pockets before looking back up at him. “I tried talking to Gordon.”

Castiel turned to finish washing the soap off his hands. He looked at Dean through the mirror. “And?”

Dean bit his lip. “He’s not interested in backing down.”

Castiel laughed bitterly. “I didn’t expect him to be.”

“He’s pissed. More than before. I told him to let it go, that he was making things worse. But he’s pretty set on getting revenge.” Dean said, leaning against a stall and staring at Castiel as he spoke.

“Revenge for what? Mind you, he came after me.” Castiel shot back.

“He’s got a pretty bad black eye and a nasty split lip.” Dean replied. “It’ll probably scar.”

“Yeah well, we all have scars.” Castiel mumbled in irritation. He took a deep breath, letting his head hang before turning around to face Dean. “I don’t want to continue fighting with him.”

“I don’t think there’s much you can do about it.” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck.

They stood there in the silence of the bathroom for a few moments, just staring at each other in a stalemate. Gordon wanted a fight, and Castiel wanted their feud to end already. But Gordon was egging it on, and here, his most trusted friend, was telling Castiel about it.

Castiel broke their eye contact, looking away and at the ground. “I refuse to keep fighting with him. Tell him I said to drop it. We can leave it at a truce or something, I don’t particularly care. But it’s a waste of time and I won’t be the center of his sick satisfaction in seeing other’s cower away from him in fear.”

Dean breathed, not sure how to respond. “And what if he won’t listen?”

“Then he’s going to get very bored, very soon. Because I’m not continuing this.” Castiel said, wiping his hands with paper towels and heading for the door to leave. Being alone and cornered in a bathroom with Dean was just weird, and he needed some air.

“Cas, wait.” Dean said, jumping up from his place against the stall and grabbing onto Castiel’s forearm. Castiel practically ripped himself from Dean’s grasp, even if it was pretty gentle, and shrunk against the wall. Dean stepped back instantly, like he just came to close to a burning flame. The look of fear on Castiel’s face was enough to stun him into silence for a few moments, until he was able to get a grip of himself again, speaking a bit softer now. “You should be careful.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, standing up straight. “Worry about yourself, Dean.”

“But I’m gonna worry about you anyways.” Dean countered.

Castiel stared at Dean, appalled by his words. “Well don’t.”

“Someone has to, because obviously you won’t.” Dean replied, searching Castiel’s eyes for some sort of understanding.

“Goodbye Dean.” Castiel said monotonously, turning for the door. Dean stepped in front of him, blocking him once again. Castiel let out a frustrated sound. “What do you want? I’m not continuing this conversation. I’d like to be left alone now.”

Dean stayed silent for a moment, eyes on the ground before he lifted them and began to choose his words carefully. “Are you and Meg Masters…? Are you guys a _thing_?”

Castiel stared up at Dean, stupefied by the utter randomness of the question. “ _What?_ ”

Dean shuffled awkwardly. “Yesterday, after school. You guys were hanging out behind the building and-“

“You were watching us?” Castiel asked, eyeing Dean suspiciously even if he already knew the answer. He did recall seeing number #67 staring up at them behind the school, after all.

“No!” Dean said quickly. “I just happened to look over and you guys were… You know… I was just wondering because you said you were just friends but uh…”

“It wasn’t your concern then, and it still isn’t now.” Castiel replied, annoyed with Dean’s nosiness.

“Okay.” Dean said submissively. “Just… If she tries to drag you to that party tonight, don’t go.”

Castiel, about to retreat, stopped and turned to face Dean again. “Why not?” He hadn’t even been aware of a party going on tonight.

“Gordon’s gonna be there, and I know Meg was invited. It’s at the Talbot’s, and Bela and her are friends. So Gordon’s expecting you to be there.”

Castiel thought for a moment. “I didn’t even know there was a party.”

“Well, then good. Forget I said anything.”

Ever since he and Meg had agreed to hangout tonight, Castiel had been imagining all the things they might do. Smoking, drinking… Castiel was giddy with nervous excitement. But he hadn’t been aware of this party, and now that he was, there was a new rush of curiosity flooding through him. He lifted his eyes, looking back up a Dean with a glint of rebelliousness. “I’ll see you later, Dean.”

Before Dean could even warn him again, Castiel was out the bathroom door and walking down the hallway towards Meg. He suppressed a smile on his lips, squeezing his hands so hard in anxiousness, the tension caused his harmed wrists to sting.

“Hey stud, nice face.” Meg greeted Castiel when he made it outside.

“Thank you. Were you invited to the Talbot’s party tonight?” He asked quickly, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

Meg was slightly surprised by the question, but she simply returned a devilish smile. “Yeah, I was.”

Castiel hummed a reply and nodded slowly in return. “Well, if you still don’t have anything going on, maybe we could check it out?”

Meg pulled out a cigarette out of her bag. “Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

Castiel continued to nod, excitement growing inside him for a night full of mischievousness.

Dean had outright told him not to go, there was no way in hell his parents could ever find out he was going to a party, especially a party that would no doubt be filled with a ton of intoxicated teenagers. Plus, Gordon, the one out for his blood, would be there. It was dangerous, taking all these chances that would likely not end in his favor. But Castiel could already feel his adrenaline pumping.

“Geez, Clarence. You’re like a different person. All… Eager for trouble and danger.” Meg said teasingly, waving a hand at him in amusement. “I like it.”

Castiel shrugged, taking the cigarette and lighter out of Meg’s hands and lighting it, inhaling the smoke.

“We did make a deal yesterday, didn’t we?” Castiel asked as he breathed out the smoke. He looked down at the seated Meg and handed her the cigarette.

“You were really serious about it then, huh?” Meg asked, putting the cigarette to her lips.

“Of course I was.” Castiel assured. He sat down next to her. “Now, about tonight…”

Meg just smirked, leaning back against the bricks and breathing in the smoke as well as the realization that the little angel-turned-demon before her might be more than she had bargained for. But she wasn’t complaining, she never would.


	7. Chapter 6: Electric Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next were originally the same chapter but I split it into two because it was just way too long. So the next chapter should be up within the next couple days. Also, warning for underage high school drinking/partying. I hope you all had a good week, and an even better weekend! :)

“Are you ready?” Meg asked from the driver’s seat, smiling over at Castiel with vicious excitement and daringness in her eyes. Castiel sat in the passenger seat, hands shaking.

“I’m not sure.” Castiel admitted.

Meg rolled her eyes. “We’re gonna have a blast.”

“Just…” Castiel began, pausing for a breath. The excitement he was swimming in earlier quickly faded when the reality of the fact that he was at a high school banger hit him. “Don’t leave me alone, I don’t know any of these people and Gordon is supposed to be here...”

“Don’t worry.” Meg assured. “I won’t ditch you, and Gordon can suck my dick. Let’s go.”

Meg took the key out of the ignition and jumped out of the car, waiting for Castiel to emerge before grabbing his hand and smiling at him excitedly. He went with her, clammy hands and his knees weak with nervousness.

The mansion-like house was buzzing with people, strobe lights from inside illuminating the front lawn, and the loud bass of what sounded like festival music, rattling Castiel’s bones. It was a new feeling, but Castiel already loved it.

The Talbot’s were a very well-to-do family. Bela was a senior, her brother Balthazar was a junior like Castiel. They shared a class actually. The Talbot’s were known for their snooty personalities and neat accents, but also for their wicked parties.

People were all about, dancing and grinding and making out. Glow sticks and alcohol were everywhere. The party was more rave-like than anything else.  Meg dragged him through the front door, waving at tons of people they passed. Their hands were still intertwined, but no one questioned Castiel’s presence. Someone just threw glow sticks around his neck and handed him a drink. He eyed it curiously before lifting it to his lips.

Meg took it out of his hands and took a swing, swishing it around her mouth before nodding. “For future reference, don’t take drinks from anyone unless it’s me. You don’t know what they put in it. Alright light weight, you ready to get smashed?”

Castiel nodded eagerly. Meg handed him back the red solo cup with sprite and vodka. The familiar scent almost made Castiel gag, but he took the drink anyways and took several gulps. Meg watched, impressed by how he downed a good amount of it and didn’t act so disgusted.

“Impressive, young grasshopper. You drink all that, and if you can handle it, maybe we’ll do some shots later.” Meg said, not even bothering with mixing a drink and just jacking the bottle of vodka in its entirety. She took a few gulps and Castiel watched, bug-eyed.

“Talk about impressive.” He said, letting Meg pour a little in his cup as he reached for more sprite. He didn’t care for the taste of alcohol, it smelled like rubbing alcohol and didn’t taste much better, but at least he wasn’t thinking about his mother and how she fancied similar drinks.

“You’ll build up a tolerance over time.” Meg assured. She took a few more sips and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She began to wobble a little and laughed before pulling Castiel close. “Let’s go dance.”

She dragged him through a swarm of sweaty teenage bodies, all glow sticks and body paint and way too much alcohol. Meg had friends she greeted and introduced to Castiel. They didn’t look at him funny or ask who he was, or question the bruises still on his face. They only smiled drunken smiles and danced around him. And the more Castiel drank, the more comfortable he felt with dancing too.

He cursed himself at some point for never trying alcohol before. For as many opportunities as he had to get drunk, he never wanted to follow in his mother’s footsteps. But it was a wonderful experience thus far. Being drunk was not what he had expected.

Finishing his drink, Meg handed him another. He didn’t know where she had gotten from, since they hadn’t moved from their spot amongst bodies, but he drank it. Never mind the taste, Castiel let Meg guide the cup to his lips and swallow. He let her pull him along, let her dance on him and guide him amongst the other bodies as they grinded and moved. They were all drunk, all sloppy and wobbly and not thinking of anything other than the feeling of skin on their skin and alcohol in their blood, and the bass pounding in time with their heartbeats.

For the first time in possibly forever, Castiel felt _free._ There was no looming thoughts driving him mad or irritating family members constantly hanging over him. There was no haunting nightmares or crippling memories. Only him, Meg, and dozens of other teenagers. Oh, and a lot of alcohol.

“How ya’ doing?” Meg asked after a while, facing Castiel and wrapping her hands around his face to help steady him.

“M’good. This… This’ great Meg.” Castiel spoke, slurring and swaying from where he stood. Meg smiled widely, swaying with him but in time with the beat.

“Feelin’ good?” She asked, glad to see him having a great time.

“Feelin’ great.” Castiel corrected.

Meg was all smiles, and pulled him closer so that their faces were only inches apart. She pressed a light kiss against his lips before pulling away and continuing dancing. Castiel was on cloud nine at this point, his body was electric and he didn’t know if he was feeling everything or nothing at all.

They danced for so long Castiel’s legs began to ache. Needing a break, he told Meg he was going to go find a bathroom. Between needing to get a rest and having to pee really badly, he needed to remove himself from the crowd.

Stumbling down hallways and opening doors, Castiel opened in on several couples half-naked and making out. If he were sober, he’d probably freak out. But he was so drunk he couldn’t even walk without clutching the wall, let alone have any moral compass. Finally he found a bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him as he entered.

He barely recognized himself in the mirror. His hair was in a dozen different directions, His face was still a little swollen from his fight with Gordon, but the bruises were yellowing. His neck was covered in little bruised hickey’s Meg must have given him while dancing. He was so on such a great buzz, he couldn’t even worry about what his father would say if he saw them.

Trying to fix his hair and his shirt, Castiel then actually used the toilet quickly and tried to wash his hands. He almost fell over numerous times in doing so, but he got out relatively unscathed. Castiel opened the door and turned off the light, stumbling out as he exited. He would have been fine, grabbing onto a wall for support if he needed it, if it hadn’t been for the solid mass he slammed into in the process.

After twin ‘oomph’s’ and both his and the stranger’s bodies falling into the wall and onto the ground due to Castiel’s drunken clumsiness, Castiel got a glimpse of the mass he slammed into in the dim light of the hallway, and couldn’t help but burst out laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.

“Dude, could you watch it?” Dean Winchester snapped, sitting up. “Why the fuck are you laughin’- oh you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“Nice t’see you too.” Castiel greeted, sitting up and staring at Dean with big, drunken eyes.

Dean stood up at lightning speed, grabbing Castiel by the arm despite Castiel’s panicked clawing at his hands, and dragging him into the bathroom. He locked the door and turned on the lights, looking at Castiel with an incredulous face.

Castiel could tell Dean had been drinking, but where he was only a little buzzed, Castiel was already pretty drunk. Castiel was wobbling, suddenly fearsome by being grabbed so roughly and thrown into the bathroom. Dean sat him down on the closed toilet seat and frowned down at him.

“I told you not to come here.” Dean scolded.

“You’re not my mother.” Castiel challenged.

“Gordon is literally down the hallway! If he sees you, you’re a dead man.” Dean said, looking for some kind of realization in Castiel’s eyes. But he got nothing.

“I’m just trying t’have a good time.” Castiel said, smiling up at Dean through drunkenly lidded eyes.

Dean thought for a moment. “Meg brought you here, didn’t she?”

“Yep, we had a good time dancin’.” Castiel said, pointing to the hickey’s on his neck. Dean’s eyes widened as he observed the bruises in disdain.

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean said, rubbing his face in his hands. “Shouldn’t you be home, like, studying or somethin’?”

“No, I came to get drunk.” Castiel dead-panned.

“Well you got drunk. Now go home.” Dean said, moving to grab Castiel to escort him out.

“No.” Castiel fought, sitting back down.

“You shouldn’t be here!” Dean said, voice rising despite him trying to remain in something of a hushed whisper.

Before either of them could say anything more, there were a couple light knocks on the bathroom door.

“Caassss?” Meg called. “Are you okay in there?”

Castiel smiled and stood, opening up the door before Dean could stop him. Meg was standing there, looking pretty drunk herself. Her eyes widened at seeing Dean standing there, who was red as can be.

“Well hello there Dean-o. You better not be tryna’ take advantage of drunk boy.” Meg said accusingly. Dean made a sound that resembled a growl before stepping out of the bathroom and cornering Meg against the wall. Castiel was too wired to even properly react.

“Why did you take him here Meg? Really? I mean Gordon is in this house and he wants to rip him apart.” Dean seethed.

“Chill, Winchester. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to him.” Meg assured, sounding incredibly sober suddenly.

“Guys, I’m standing right here.” Castiel spoke up, annoyance rolling over him.

“He’s drunk. Like, really drunk. And then you let him walk off by himself?” Dean asked in disbelief. “You know what you were risking when you brought him here.”

“Well excuse me for not being the world’s best baby-sitter.” Meg snapped.

“Has he even been drunk before? What if something bad would have happened?!” Dean asked, trying to make Meg see his point. But she was just leaning against the wall in a constant state of eye-rolling.

“Hello? I’m still here.” Castiel said, even more aggravated.

“He’s doing just fine right now. I think he can pull his own weight.” Meg shot back.

Dean rolled his eyes. “You both need to leave.”

“Fuck off, Dean.” Castiel said loudly, moving to stand next to Meg. His drunken bravery was doing wonders for him. Both of them turned to look at him in disbelief. “You don’t care, so stop acting like you do and mind your own business. Let’s go Meg, he just killed my buzz.”

“Wait-“ Dean called, but Meg was already pulling him along back towards where all the alcohol was. She was giggling and holding his hand as they stumbled along.

They drank more, danced more. Gordon was nowhere to be found for about an hour, until Meg spotted him flirting up some girl in the corner. They dodged him like it was a game, and when he disappeared down the hallway with the girl only a little bit later, they were free to do as they pleased again.

“I’m gonna go dance some more, you wanna come?” She asked, but Castiel’s legs weren’t stable enough to keep him up on the dance floor.

“No, I’ll stand right here though. You go ahead.” Castiel said, and Meg kissed his cheek before disappearing into the crowd again.

He stood there, sipping his drink and people-watching for a few minutes until his eyes landed on Dean Winchester, who was standing in the corner looking miserable with a beer in his hand. Castiel sighed, remembering how he snapped at Dean earlier. He felt a little guilty, and decided to grab a bottle of fire ball (an excellent cinnamon whiskey Meg informed him would probably make him sick tomorrow, but Castiel didn’t care one bit as he took a shot), and two shot glasses, and walked over.

“Havin’ fun?” Castiel asked, trying his best to walk normal and not appear as already drunk as he was. Dean snapped his head towards Castiel as he approached, dumbstruck by Castiel’s presence.

“Not really.” Dean admitted, eyes turning back towards the dancing crowd.

“Why not?” Castiel asked, handing Dean a glass. Dean took it, eyebrows furrowed at Castiel’s insistence of doing a shot with him. Only earlier had Castiel yelled at Dean to fuck off, and now he was trying to make amends?

“Lisa Braedon is currently hooking up with Gordon in the other room.” Dean said, allowing Castiel to fill his glass. Somehow, he only spilt a little.

“Who’s Lisa?” Castiel asked, lifting his glass just as Dean clinked theirs together. They downed the shot, clenching their teeth at the burn.

“Just… Just someone.” Dean said, not looking at Castiel again.

Castiel hummed, pouring more of the whiskey into their glasses now per Dean’s insistence. “Someone important, I’m assuming.”

“Not anymore.” Dean said, downing another shot.

Castiel drank his quickly, loving the way it burned his throat all the way down to his core. Dean looked at him, impressed as he set the bottle and the glasses down on the table near them. “You sure this is your first time drinking?”

“Yep.” Castiel said, leaning against the wall beside Dean.

“You’re a natural.” Dean complimented, and Castiel smiled over at him.

“Must run in the family.” Castiel said, shutting his eyes and feeling the music make his ribcage vibrate.

“Where’d Meg go?” Dean asked, sipping his beer again.

“She’s dancing.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I don’t have the endurance for it.” Castiel said. He felt like the world was spinning, and he loved it.

Dean laughed, laughed hard and looked at Castiel for a long moment. Castiel reached down and pulled the beer out of his hand, taking a sip. He handed it back to him, never looking at him once.

“You are not the Castiel Novak I thought you were.” Dean said, and that caught Castiel’s visual attention.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, two drunk teenage boys being wallflowers at a party. Castiel took a deep breath, pursing his lips.

“I’m not the Castiel Novak I thought I was either.”

Dean continued to look at him, harder this time. Not in fascination or impressment. But worry, and not for his physical well-being, but more than that. Castiel shook his head, shook it of the bad thoughts he had done a great job of hiding all night.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“I’m great.” Castiel said, pushing himself off the wall and looking over at Dean. “I’m not drunk enough.”

“Uh- I think you’re plenty drunk.” Dean said, putting his hands out for aid if he needed it.

Castiel shook his head. “My tolerance is a lot higher than anticipated. I want to be black out drunk.”

Dean looked at Castiel with a concerned expression. But he took a deep breath, glancing over at the station of alcohol across the room longingly. “Me too.”

Castiel smiled darkly. “What are we waiting for then?”

Dean thought for a moment before shrugging and suppressing a smile. He downed the rest of his beer, and followed Castiel towards the table covered in alcohol.

Shot after shot, the night grew hazier and hazier. Everything was music and bass and vibrating and the smell of alcohol and Dean’s cologne beside him as they sat around and talked as well as play beer bong (which Castiel was surprisingly good at). Not a moment went by that Castiel didn’t have a drink in his hand or Dean by his side. Meg came and went, finding friends to dance with but always coming back to check on Castiel. Meg and Dean definitely weren’t fans of each other, but since they both were parenting Castiel in a way, they played nice.

Castiel couldn’t remember a time he had ever felt so free, so ecstatic and energized. For the first time in a while, he felt like life wasn’t so heavy, dark, and dreary. Even if it was only because of the drink in his hand and a certain dirty-blonde boy whose drunken green eyes had sun-lit forests inside them.

He felt sensational.

And then it was all black…

And there was absolutely

                                nothing

                                         to

                                             feel

                                                   at all.


	8. Chapter 7: Diagnosing Darkness

It started with a sharp pain in his head, like someone was literally driving a nail through his skull and pulling it out, and then pushing it in again. It moved down to his throat, like liquid fire sliding down his esophagus. Then it slid into his veins and to his stomach. And then he was back to his senses with the snap of his eyes opening.

Sunlight wasn’t his friend, even if it was only a crack of it through a window pane in the early morning. His eyes burned, like the rest of his body, and he was reminded of the pain that woke him up in the first place.

His entire body was tense, and even as he scrambled to move out of the bed his body screamed at every movement, preventing him from getting anywhere.

And then there was a new problem entirely.

The solid, warm, mass lying beside him. He didn’t even have time to freak out before he was leaping over it and stumbling to the door.

The room was unfamiliar, dark and cool. But he found the door, and his heart was pounding so loud in his ears at the unfamiliarity of this place. He opened the door, and it wasn’t too much brighter but he still squinted. The hallway was empty, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to find the bathroom in time. But the bathroom door was open and he spotted the toilet. Despite the panic setting in, he raced to it, shutting the door and falling to his knees before emptying the contents of his stomach.

It was horrible, it burned all the way up and it lasted for what seemed forever. Castiel puked and puked in the unfamiliar toilet, in this unfamiliar bathroom, in this unfamiliar house. His anxiety only made it worse, and he was gripping the toilet so hard there were tears in his eyes as his breath came out in ragged pushes of air.

He had no idea where he was, he felt sick and absolutely disgusting. He had woken up in a strange bed with some unknown person sleeping beside him. Castiel had so many questions, but he couldn’t stop throwing up to even address them.

Castiel could remember the party, and vaguely everything up to leaning against the wall besides Dean Winchester of all people. But he didn’t remember anything beside that. He wondered where Meg was. This wasn’t her bathroom and that hadn’t been her bed, so he couldn’t be back at her house. That didn’t narrow it down much.

The door behind him opened, and Castiel nearly screamed. He shrunk away from whoever was entering behind him, only throwing up again into the toilet bowl.

“Geez, you don’t look so good.” A voice said, and Castiel looked up through the dim bathroom at a boy only a couple years younger than him.

“Who- Who are-“  Castiel couldn’t finish the sentence before he was yakking again.

The boy sat down on the edge of the bathtub beside Castiel, not commenting on the way Castiel looked at him warily. He handed Castiel a water bottle.

“I’m Sam. Do you not remember?” The boy, Sam, said. Casitel shook his head, taking the water cautiously. “You _were_ pretty drunk I guess.”

“Where am I? What happened?” Castiel asked, voice hoarse.

“Well you’re safe, so don’t freak out. I’m Sam Winchester, my brother took you home last night. You guys were ridiculously drunk. I’m not sure why you came home with him, but he asked me to text your brother Michael and make sure it was fine you stayed here.” Sam said, pointing to the water bottle to make sure Castiel drank more of it.

Castiel let out a sigh of relief, thankful he wouldn’t have to deal with his family panicking about his whereabouts. Judging from the sun only now rising, it was still pretty early. So they probably weren’t even awake yet.

“I feel terrible.” Castiel said. “I need to go home.”

 “It’s so early.” Sam replied.

“Why are you awake then?”

 “You made quite the racket when you woke up. My room’s right next door. I’m surprised Dean didn’t wake up.” Sam replied.

The thought of Dean made his stomach lurch. “Well I apologize for waking you.”

“It’s fine. I can always go back to bed. Which you should to.” Sam advised.

“No… No I have to go home.” Castiel said, shaking his head and beginning to move to get up. His head was still pounding, and he was freezing, shirtless in a stranger’s bathroom.

“You’re hungover. Sleep is what you need.” Sam told him.

Castiel kept shaking his head, he stood up quickly, and was thankful when Sam grabbed him to keep him from blacking out again. He ripped himself out of Sam’s arms as soon as he was caught though, shuddering like a dying man.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Sam asked, and Castiel realized that he was only in a white t-shirt, his wrist was entirely exposed.

“Don’t...” Castiel breathed heavily, other hand enclosing around his scabbed and cut wrist. He looked at the ground. “Don’t tell your brother.”

Sam had a confused look on his face, but also one of understanding. “Here.” He said, unzipping his sweatshirt and handing it to Castiel. He had a shirt on underneath, anyways.

Sam was pretty big for his age, so the sweatshirt fit Castiel fine. Castiel looked thankfully up at Sam before Sam disappeared into the hallway. Castiel leaned against the wall and waited nervously.

“Cas?” Dean croaked as he entered the bathroom. He was only in a t-shirt and boxers, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looked pretty rough too, but at least he wasn’t throwing up. He looked at Castiel in confusion. “Are you okay?”

“Not really. I need to leave.” Castiel said, not even looking up at Dean.

“It’s six in the morning. You should go back to bed.” Dean said, just as his brother had.

“No… No I’m sorry for intruding last night. I wasn’t under the impression that I would be sleeping here. So I apologize, but I’m going to call my brother.” Castiel said, turning to walk out of the bathroom.

“Cas, it isn’t a big deal. You’re hungover as hell and you should sleep it off. And when you wake up in a few hours my mom can make us breakfast and you’ll feel a little better.” Dean said, following Castiel down the hall. Castiel didn’t remember exactly where he came from but he figured it out in the darkness of the hallway.

“Dean, you’re very generous but I must be going.” Castiel said, nausea creeping up on him. He bit his lip, turning on the bedroom light to look for his stuff. The light made his eyes burn.

“Cas, you’re being ridiculous.” Dean said, shooing Sam out of his room.

Cas stopped his mad search and stood there for a moment taking deep breaths. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not? I’ve slept in some strange places myself. At least you ended up somewhere safe. My mom’s pretty cool about me partying occasionally as long as I keep my grades decent and be careful about it. She picked us up last night and she loved you even if you were drunk as hell.” Dean said, rambling on as Castiel continued his search for his pants and shirt and phone. He sounded nervous.

“Tell your mother I said thank you for her hospitality.”

“If you stay you can tell her yourself in a few hours.” Dean said hopefully.

Castiel found his stuff, discarded near the bed. He pulled out his phone and see a couple messages.

****_To >> Michael  
From<< Me  
Time: 1:34_

_Hey, I’m going to be sleeping at a friend’s tonight, is that okay? His name is Dean Winchester._

****_To >> Me  
From<< Michael  
Time: 1:37_

_Yes. I didn’t know you were planning on spending the night elsewhere, but I didn’t bother telling Mother and Father since they aren’t even home. Just don’t forget you have your therapy appointment at 1, I’ll pick you up at 12:30._

****_To >> Me  
From<< Luke  
Time: 1:45_

_so u dont need me to pick you up from the party then_

****_To >> Me  
From<< Luke  
Time: 1:58_

_whos dean winchester ;)_

****_To >>Me  
From<< Gabe  
Time: 2:05_

_y did luke just tell me ur sleepin at the winchesters? ;)_

****_To >>Me  
From<< Anna  
Time: 2:14_

_hey a bunch of people just texted me saying they saw you at the talbot’s? were you there? and with meg masters? did you go home with dean Winchester after?_

Castiel frowned at all of his sibling’s messages, exiting out of them and sending a text to Anna asking her to come pick him up. She went running early in the mornings usually, so she’d be the only one up.

“Cas, c’mon. You deserve a few more hours of sleep after last night. You were a champ.” Dean said playfully, still obviously tired and barely standing up straight.

“Dean, you have my gratitude for taking care of me last night while I was acting irresponsibly. I’m thankful you and your mother were alright with letting me spend the night, I really am. But I will not overstay my welcome. I’m awake and I should leave.” Castiel said, trying to rub the exhaustion from his eyes.

“You don’t have to. No one is forcing you.” Dean replied.

Castiel snapped his head up. “I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be, Dean. You were kind to me, you have always been. But we aren’t friends. Last night I got a little carried away. And that was my mistake. But this had been quite disorientating for me, to wake up in a strange place next to you, someone I could still consider a stranger. I just want to go home.” Castiel was sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed with his head in his hands.

Dean’s persistency was just downright irritating. Castiel knew any other hungover teenager wouldn’t care where they were sleeping as long as they were safe. But Castiel wasn’t like any other teenager. The last time he woke up in a strange place, sick and confused, it had caused him deep mental trauma that still affected him to this day. So he didn’t feel comfortable being there. No matter how much Dean pushed for him to stay. And of course Castiel did appreciate Dean’s hospitality. After everything with Gordon, Dean had been nothing but kind to Castiel. But the fact still stood that Castiel wanted to go home, sleep in his own bed, and then get through this therapy session without difficulty. In truth, Castiel was just in a shitty mood and didn’t feel like wrestling with the thought of Dean Winchester on top of the upcoming stress that was his therapy appointment.

“Okay.” Dean said monotonously. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Castiel responded. He looked over at Dean through bloodshot and tired eyes, trying to look a little less upset. He had been rude and now he felt bad, but not enough to keep himself in an uncomfortable situation.

“Are we ever going to be able to be friends?” Dean asked after a little time had passed.

Castiel thought for a second. “Most likely not.”

“Why?”

Anna texted Castiel letting him know she was down the street. “Did you not know? I’m a basket-case.” Castiel responded with a pained little smile. He stood up, gathering his things and turned for the door. “Again, thank you for everything, Dean. I hope you can find some better friends.” Castiel walked out of the room before Dean could respond, looking for the staircase and then the front door. Sam was nowhere to be seen, so Castiel easily slipped out of the house without notice. Anna was in the driveway when he opened up the door. He climbed in wordlessly.

“This has got to be the weirdest thing I have ever done. Picking you up from Dean Winchester’s house, of all people. Like, what? How did you get here? I knew you were going out last night, but did you go to that party? Is that how you ended up here?” Anna was speaking so loudly and quickly, sweaty and clad in work out gear, that Castiel almost regretted asking her to pick him up.

“Anna, I just want you to know that I am currently very hungover and irritated. Yes I did go to that party at the Talbot’s last night. And yes, at some point I did end up going back to the Winchester’s and sleeping there. If you have any more questions I’d be more willing to answer them after I’ve slept a few more hours, showered, and eaten. But until then, all I ask for is some peace.” Castiel said, eyes shut from the brightness of the early morning sun. His head was pounding, and his rudeness didn’t faze him. But Anna did remain quiet all the way home.

As soon as they pulled into their driveway, Castiel was out of the car and in his bed within a thirty seconds. He slept a lot better in his own bed, knowing his parents had no idea of his previous absence since they ended up spending the night at a hotel after his father’s office party. Even when they got home, they’d probably be gone for the rest of the day running errands and what not. Castiel’s other siblings were still asleep. He didn’t have to worry about anything yet, so until then, sleep sounded really good.

\-- -

The waiting room wasn’t like any of the other’s he had spent hours sitting in. It wasn’t filled with obnoxiously drab patterning and overly color-coordinated chairs and coffee tables. It wasn’t stuck in the seventies, floral designs and bullshit quotes decorating the walls. There wasn’t a children’s area in the corner with old, dusty coloring books and broken crayons. There weren’t worn and torn women’s and men’s magazines scattered messily on the table, there wasn’t even boring elevator music playing in the background.

This waiting room was warmly and exotically colored, with comfy chairs and posters all over the walls for various sci-fi movies and tv-shows. There was a giant bookshelf along the wall, and the music playing was some kind of alternative-indie rock radio station. The windows were open and the air was fresh, not stiff. There were essential oils burning on a little alter-type thing in the corner. It was almost Wiccan-like, with candles and chakra stones scattered about. There were good luck charms and a little box that said “Write a wish here!” on it. The secretary was young and friendly looking, humming along to the music and typing away on her computer.

Castiel didn’t feel threatened or uncomfortable here, he wasn’t feeling like his skin was crawling or like the room was closing in around him. He felt calm, at ease. It was foreign, but in a good way.           

He sat in his chair, breathing in the smell of lavender and listening to the music playing. Michael was sitting beside him, and he appeared to be more nervous than Castiel was. Castiel was sure the secretary thought he was the one seeing the psychologist today.

“Castiel Novak?” A voice said, and Castiel’s head perked up instantly. A young woman was standing in the door way which led to a hallway of rooms. “If you could come with me, Dr. Bradbury will see you now.”

Castiel stood up, finally feeling some anxiety rush through him. He looked down at Michael one last time, who nodded at him encouragingly with a hopeful smile. He nodded back once before turning to walk with the women.

“First time here?” She asked as he followed behind her.

“Yes.” He said simply.

“The first time can be the most difficult, but Dr. Bradbury is good at what she does. You’ll like her.” The woman said, opening a door to a room at the end of the hall.

He walked in slowly, looking about curiously. The room was similar to the waiting room, colorful and decorated like a stereotypical nerd’s bedroom. It was decked out in movie posters and there were book shelves of classic novels and comics everywhere. What was most surprising was the little red-headed women sitting in a beanbag in the center of the room. She stood up as Castiel entered, sticking out her hand.

“You must be Castiel! That’s an interesting name by the way. Angelic?” She asked, taking his hand and shaking it warmly.

“Yes. All my siblings have biblical names as well.” He said, a small smile on his lips. He was already shaking.

“That’s pretty sweet. Nice face, by the way” She said, pulling him to the opposite bean bag and referencing to the bruises still healing from Gordon “I’d hate to see the other guy.”

“Well he started it.” Castiel replied, looking down at the carpet.

Charlie huffed out a small laugh and shook her head before speaking again. “I’m Dr. Charlotte Bradbury, but you can call me Charlie if you’d like. Or just Dr. Bradbury if you think it’s cliché of me to ask you to call me by my first name.” She said, chuckling.

“Okay.” Castiel said hesitantly, sitting down in the dark blue bean bag across from hers. Dr. Bradb- Charlie, was a happy-go-lucky kind of woman. She was dressed more casually in just jeans and a sweater. Castiel wasn’t used to the informality of this doctor, but he did kind of enjoy it. It was less threatening, Charlie didn’t look like a doctor who only cared about making money. She looked young and genuine, and just plain friendly. She was dorky, but not unapproachable.

“So, it’s our first time meeting. This will be sort of an evaluation, I guess. Just so I can get to know you and so we can figure out what’s the best way to approach your situation. And in turn, you can get to know me as well. I don’t want this to just be a one-sided interrogation. You know?” Charlie said, pulling a mug of tea off of the coffee table beside her and holding it in her hands. She leaned forward and whispered, “If you want tea, I can get you some too.”

Castiel nodded and smiled in return. He didn’t feel like being here, there was no denial in that. And he didn’t expect this to help. But he figured he could at least be kind, even if he still felt like shit from earlier and wanted to be home and asleep instead.

“What brings you here today, _Castiel_?” She asked, teasing emphasis on the syllables of his name.

“My siblings are concerned about me.” He admitted.

“How many siblings do you have?” Charlie asked.

“Four. Three brothers and a sister.”

“So you have a big family? Are your parents still married?”

“Yes, to both questions.”

“Tell me about your brothers and sister.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Well, there’s Michael and Luke who are fraternal twins. They’re the oldest, they’ve graduated high school and are in college already. Michael is sitting in the waiting room. He’s very intelligent, and even more protective, but he lacks a good sense of humor. Luke is, well he’s always been a trouble maker. He’s caring, but he has a short temper and he’s quite narcissistic.” Castiel smirked for a second, thinking of Luke and his teasing attitude when Castiel got home earlier.

_“So… Dean Winchester then?” Luke asked, following Castiel around the kitchen. Castiel was doing his best to ignore him._

_“Mind your own business, Luke.” Michael reprimanded from the kitchen table._

_“Oh c’mon. You go home with Dean Winchester, drunk after a party, and you don’t expect me to be a little curious about this mystery boy.” Luke teased, giggling like a school girl._

_“Just because Mom and Dad spared you the horror of having Lucifer on your birth certificate by shortening it to Luke, doesn’t mean that it’s still not an accurate name for you.” Anna reprimanded, making a sandwich at the counter._

_“Says the girl whose full name looks like a fancy way of spelling anal,_ Annael. _” Luke bit back, ducking when Anna threw the scraps of her lettuce at him._

_Castiel watched his siblings squabble playfully, smiling softly to himself the entire time._

“Gabriel is a trickster.” Castiel continued. “He’s always playing jokes on us but he’s really just a harmless puppy who has a knack for cooking and a middle child complex. And Anna, who is my fraternal twin, is truly kind and wonderful, but also very rebellious.”

“Sounds like a lovely family. Do you all get along well?” Charlie asked curiously.

“Yes. Well I suppose we don’t always get along, but most of the time we’re nice to each other.” Castiel replied.

“What about your parents?” Charlie asked. Castiel knew the question was coming, but he wished it hadn’t been. He swallowed and sat up a little stiffer.

“We also get along.” He lied, although he thought he sounded convincing. Charlie eyed him for a moment, searching for the truth as if she could see right through him.

“Are they good people?”

“Of course.” Castiel said, and he hated how conditioned he was to defend and protect his parent’s reputation. The thought of telling the truth, of letting it be known how Naomi was an alcoholic and Zachariah was an egotistical embezzler who turned his back on his family when shit hit the fan, made Castiel’s blood run cold. The guilt would be too much. Castiel began playing with his sleeves, a subconscious habit he picked up in light of recent habits, which was a red flag to Charlie that things were not as great as they seemed.

“What are they like?” Charlie tried digging a little deeper.

“They are both wonderful people who are esteemed members of our town and church. My father has a high position at Sandover Industries, my mother stays at home and is very involved with the community.” Castiel said, as if he were reading a script.

Charlie wasn’t buying it, but she played along. She book marked this conversation for a later time.

“What about hobbies? Or sports?”

“I used to do track, but practices and meets were a lot to keep up with. I enjoy art class a lot.” Castiel admitted.

“Oh so you’re artistic? That’s lovely, what’s your medium of choice?” Charlie asked, definitely interested.

“I love to paint.” Castiel said, attitude suddenly softer.

Charlie nodded, smiling something small. “And as for friends?”

Castiel looked down and still played with the hem of his sweater. “They’re good friends.” He lied, because he couldn’t admit that his only friend was a stoner basket-case who was influencing him to self-abuse, and the only other person who was even attempting to befriend him was a jock football player with his own skeletons in his closet and teammates who wouldn’t hesitate to kick the living shit out of him if he even breathed in their general direction. So he gave a faint little smile and kept up the same façade he’d been playing his whole life; a good Catholic boy with a good family, and great friends, who was well physically and mentally.

Charlie wrote something down on her notepad and stayed silent for a moment. “Do you want to ask me any questions?”

Castiel just looked at her and gave a little shrug, not even sure where to start with the reverse interrogation tactic. She just gave a faint smile. “It’s fine, I can just tell you a bit and you can ask me questions as we go, if you’d like.”

“You already know my name, so I’ll dive right in. I’m twenty-six years old, which, I know, is young, but I started college when I was sixteen since I was pretty ahead in school. Umm… Let’s see. I’m a huge geek, I’ve been to comic-con three times and they were the best three weekends of my life. Star Trek is my everything. I LARP, laugh if you will but I am the Queen of my kingdom.” Charlie stopped and giggled the tiniest bit when Castiel’s eyes went wide from the overflow of information. “I’ve been with my girlfriend for a year and a half, Hermione Granger is my fictional heroine. I think, even on a bad day I could eat at least forty chicken nuggets in one sitting and -“

“You have a girlfriend?” Castiel interrupted, as Charlie came down from her autobiographical rant.

“Yeah! Her name is Gilda. I know, it must be hard to think that _I_ could be in a committed relationship but…” Charlie trailed off again, almost beginning to day dream about her girlfriend. But she stopped, sitting up a bit and cocking her head. Castiel was sitting up straighter, head slightly tilted, looking confused and shocked. “Oh.”

Castiel tore his eyes away and looked at the ground, embarrassed for his judgement. He cursed himself. “My apologies.”

“You didn’t know I was gay, did you?” Charlie asked, even more intrigued by the boy sitting in front of him.

“No, I just assumed that- It’s really none of my business.” Castiel said, still avoiding Charlie’s attempts to grab his eyes.

“Is that a problem?”

“Of course not, I just… I just didn’t- I wouldn’t have…” Castiel stopped, shutting his eyes and biting his lip in frustration. He wasn’t his father, he didn’t have a hatred for the lgbtq community. It was just… Foreign to him. It brought up all kinds of questions.

“ _Your parents are esteemed members of the church_.” Charlie finally spoke after a few minutes, clicking the unspoken pieces together.

“They are.” Castiel confirmed, fingers wrapped around the strings of his sweater.

“Are you?”

“I don’t know.”

There was silence for a long time after that, both of them unsure of what to say next. Until, Charlie finally set her empty mug down and straightened up.

“So.” She broke the awkward silence, clapping her hands together. “This session is rather short since it’s just an evaluation. But, I would like to see you again.”

Castiel lifted his head slowly. “Why? Did I not pass your test?”

She shook her head, red hair cascading in front of her face as she smiled softly and forgivingly. “Not even close.”

“So what’s the diagnosis then? What’s wrong with me?” Castiel asked, doing his best to sound void of emotion. Just when he thought he was in the clear, he was in the middle of rush hour traffic all over again.

“Do you really want to hear my early diagnosis?” Charlie asked. “I could be wrong.”

“Yes.” Castiel responded dryly.

“Well, my current diagnosis is some sort of anxiety disorder, most likely PTSD, with major depressive and self-destructive tendencies.” Charlie said, eyes on her pad of paper as she spoke. She lifted her eyes when she finished to see Castiel staring at her, mouth shut tightly and eyes wide.

“How did you come to that conclusion based on only our conversation?” Castiel asked, somewhat amazed, somewhat terrified.

“I’m good at my job.” Charlie replied humbly. “The key is not to just pay attention to what you’re saying, but how you’re saying it. Your body language, your tone of voice, the look in your eyes. It helps me separate the truth from your words and your mind, because your mind is projected with your body language, while words can be deceiving.”

Castiel stared at Charlie like she was a mad scientist.  

Her lips turned up slightly, amused by Castiel’s amazed horror. “For example, you told me your parents are wonderful people. But I know that that isn’t true to you because the moment I mentioned them you stiffened. You became robotic, insincere, a complete contrast to how you had been talking about your siblings, who you obviously care about very deeply. It’s the same way that I managed to piece together your discomfort when I mentioned that I was a lesbian, to your religious upbringing by your “ _highly esteemed_ ” parents, and how that probably had a negative impact on your psyche. I can tell that you have had past issues with your parents, and the church, just from the way you reacted. And I hope that we’ll be able to sort through all those issues in the near future.”

Charlie took a deep breath and paused. “Plus, along with all of that, your brother and I had like a two minute conversation where he filled me in on a little bit about you. Nothing too personal but just a bit of a forewarning since he knew you wouldn’t open up quickly. But even if he hadn’t given me a lil’ synopsis, you’re more of an open-book than you think.”

Castiel rolled his eyes in gentle annoyance as Charlie fessed up. “I really hate when he talks about me behind my back.”

“But he was right. And so were all my assumptions, correct?” Charlie asked, and Castiel reluctantly nodded. “Sometimes, we have to do things for the people we care about, even it those things will upset them. Your brother, and your other siblings, care about you very much, and they don’t like to see you suffer.”

“Why is everyone convinced I’m suffering except for me?” Castiel asked, aggravated by the constant insistence that he was falling apart at the seams, on the verge of a mental break, when in fact he’s felt more sane recently than ever.

“Suffering isn’t always obvious emotional and physical distress. Just because you aren’t constantly crying your eyes out or completely unable to get out of bed, doesn’t mean you aren’t being affected by something. In fact, most mentally ill people are fully functional. It’s just, they aren’t living fully and happily. They’re suffering silently, and I think you’re in that same boat.” Charlie said, crossing her legs and tapping her pen on her clipboard.

“I’m not sick.” Castiel bit, actually staring Charlie down now.

“PTSD is a mental condition, an anxiety disorder. Technically, if you’ve been diagnosed with it, which _I am_ diagnosing you with it, since you haven’t really rejected the possibility of there having been a traumatic event in your life to cause this disorder, you are put under the mentally ill bracket. You might not be physically ill, but you’re still _sick_ in some sense of the word.” Charlie corrected, although speaking kindly and respectfully.

“I am not sick.” Castiel repeated.

Charlie pressed her lips together tightly. “I know it’s a lot to take in, and I don’t expect you to be okay with this. But there’s nothing wrong with being sick, Cas. I like to believe we’re all a little sick. There’s a common misconception about those with mental disorders being weak or fragile, but that isn’t the truth. In fact, the strongest people I have ever met have mental disorders.”

Castiel crossed his arms and bit his lip, his eyes beginning to tear up. It _was_ a lot to take in, he was being diagnosed with a sickness and it just made his blood go cold. He tapped his foot, pulled on his sleeves, and looked for some kind of distraction because he was in need of a release but this appointment wasn’t over yet.

Sighing sympathetically, Charlie sat forward a bit. “Can I tell you something?”

Castiel reluctantly lifted his eyes, looking up at her and nodding.

“It’s a secret though so you can’t tell anyone.” Charlie whispered, leaning forward more and getting closer to Castiel. “When I was twelve year’s old, I went to a sleepover. Being the twelve year old hormonal adolescent that I was, I was beginning to… Find myself, as lame as that sounds. It’s not a secret, I’m a lesbian. But I was raised in a small town too, and I didn’t know at twelve years old, that as a girl, I could like girls. So when all the girls there started gossiping about boy drama and crushes, I thought something was wrong with me, and I freaked the fuck out. So I called my parents, and they said they would come and get me.”

Charlie paused for a second, biting her lip and breathing in and out before continuing. “A drunk driver hit them down the street from the house I was staying at. My father was killed instantly. My mom was alive, but just barely. For years she was just hooked at the hospital, brain dead but kept alive on ventilators… I used to read Tolkien to her.” Charlie smiled softly at the memory.

“I slipped into a pretty dark depression for years after that. My parents were gone, I was so lost and I couldn’t find myself. Struggling with sexual identity issues and mass amounts of guilt, my high school years were just a blur of getting in trouble with the law, anxiety, and numerous suicide attempts. Somehow I still managed to do well in school, because I was such a mess but at least school work was something I had control over. It wasn’t until I turned eighteen that I decided enough was enough was enough. I was in college, and I needed to get my life together. I got the help I needed. I started to see a therapist, decided to pursue a career in psychology. I even got the closure I needed with my mother, and I realized that she wasn’t coming back. I moved on, because I knew that after years of absolute darkness, I was missing out on all the light.”

Castiel listened to Charlie’s story, and felt an overwhelming amount of respect for her rush over him. “I’m very sorry about your parents.”

Charlie smiled sadly in appreciation. “Me too.”

A few moments passed before Castiel finally sighed and stood up. “I suppose coming back might not be that horrible of an idea. It would probably make my family happy.”

“Will it make you happy?” Charlie asked.

“Well if you’re as good at your job as you said, hopefully.” Castiel said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He stood up, just as the timer went of signaling their appointment was over.

Charlie huffed out a laugh and stood up with Castiel. “I think you’re brave, Castiel. But I also think you’re carrying around a lot of darkness with you. But the first step to getting better is actually realizing you need to get better. I’ll see you next week.”

Castiel nodded and gave Charlie one last little smile before turning to the door. He shut it and walked down the hallway towards the waiting room.

Their session wasn’t long, but he couldn’t lie. He did feel a little better. Despite his original reluctance to seeing a specialist, he couldn’t deny that he liked Charlie and she could definitely help him. But that didn’t change the fact that he was still walking down a dark road with Meg. And even after his appointment, he didn’t plan on taking a left turn to recovery. In fact, he was thinking about calling Meg as soon as he got home to hangout.

“How was it?” Michael asked, standing up to walk beside Castiel as he headed to exit the building.

“It wasn’t awful.” Castiel admitted.

“Did you like her?”

“I did.”

Michael followed behind Castiel towards the car. “Do you want to go back next week?”

Castiel thought for a moment, walking to the passenger side of Michael’s car. “I think I might.”

Michael smiled, a toothy grin as he unlocked the car and sat in the driver’s seat. “That’s great, Castiel.”

Castiel took a deep breath, staring out the window. “I suppose it is.”


	9. Chapter 8: A Favor

Being high was extraordinary.

To be drunk was to be sloppy. You were all over the place, unable to properly function. And as Castiel had to learn the hard way, the hangover the next morning was just awful. But there were other alternatives, as Castiel was beginning to find out.

Sitting on Meg’s bed passing a blunt between the two of them was much needed, especially since he was still dealing with his post-appointment jitters.

“So she was cool then? Not some stuck up asshole in a pantsuit?” Meg asked, handing the blunt to Castiel.

“She was extremely cool, actually. Young and dorky. It was like she wasn’t even a therapist.” Castiel admitted, inhaling smoke and breathing it out. He had gotten used to the smoothness of a cigarette. He still coughed a little bit with the weed, the smoke being thicker than that of a cigarette. The smell and taste weren’t divine either, but the feeling he got was just amazing, so he went in for a second drag.

“Weird.” Meg shook her head. “So you’re going back then?”

“I think so, yeah.” Castiel said, shrugging.

“Do you think it will make you better?” Meg asked, sounding smaller now. She wouldn’t look at him.

“I think it will make as a good distraction.”

“I thought I was your distraction.” Meg bit.

Castiel looked over at her in confusion. “You are.”

“So me, your dealer, beard, and toxic friendship... And then your therapist? Those are your two distractions?” Meg sounded bitter and hurt.

“Meg, are you getting jealous of my therapist?” Castiel asked teasingly.

“No!” She gawked, rolling her eyes and bringing the blunt back to her lips. “It’s just… I don’t get you. One second you’re talking all this shit about wanting to die and living recklessly, and then the next you’re seeing a therapist and actually liking it. You can’t plan on staying a basket-case while in recovery. I just don’t understand what you’re doing.” Meg admitted, some bitterness seeping into her words, even if she tried to act casual.

Castiel contemplated for a moment before rolling onto his side and waiting for Meg to turn to him. She reluctantly did with blood-shot eyes and undivided attention. “Look at it this way. I have to see this therapist, otherwise I have no doubt that my family will lock me up in an insane asylum and throw away the key. And since it’s fairly safe to say I have no other choice to see Charlie, I might as well try to enjoy it. That doesn’t mean tomorrow I’ll be recovered and perfectly fine. Obviously that’s not my goal if I’m here smoking weed with you right after my first appointment.”

“I guess you’re right.” Meg sighed. “Just remember that deal we made, Clarence.”

They both collapsed in a fit of giggles, rolling around and laughing at the thought of that time behind the school when they kissed. It was a good five minutes before they both settled down again. That was another good thing about weed, it was like they were inhaling some kind of laughing gas.

“So PTSD, huh?” Meg asked, watching as Castiel finally sat up in order to cough properly after he took another long drag.

“Yes, that was the diagnosis.” Castiel replied dryly.

“So what was the traumatic event?” Meg asked.

Castiel stiffened, playing with is sleeve again and not looking at her. “It’s not something I would enjoy talking about.”

Meg sat up and moved closer to him, leaning into his space and resting her chin on his shoulder. “You do realize that if you’re in therapy for PTSD, eventually your therapist is gonna wanna know more about what that caused it.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Castiel rolled his eyes, taking the blunt and inhaling it sharply.

“See this is what I mean. You’re oddly willing to go see a therapist for someone who really doesn’t want to do any therapy-ing.” Meg shot back,

“Therapy-ing?” Castiel asked teasingly.

Meg pointed at him with a stern face. “You’re deflecting.”

Castiel put his hands up, surrendering. “I know. It’s just… It’s complicated.”

“It isn’t complicated. You wanna have the best of both worlds. You just saw some kinda beacon of hope or some shit and now you wanna get high and have fun but you also might want to get better.” Meg spoke, getting up and gesturing for Castiel to follow her out of her bedroom. He did so without questioning where she was leading him.

Once they were down in her kitchen and she was pulling a half-empty bag of Doritos out of a cabinet, Castiel realized just how hungry he was. He sat at the counter with Meg and took a big handful.

Meg’s house wasn’t anything special. Small, a bit grungy. With a father nowhere to be found, it was mostly her and her sister Ruby. Neither of which took the time to clean up regularly.  There was trash lying around and dishes in the sink, probably spoiled food in the fridge, not that Castiel was going to investigate. It wasn’t anything like the Novak home, designer décor in every room and kept in pristine condition at all times. It was entirely different, actually. But Castiel didn’t mind at all.

“Listen,” Meg said, mouth chomping loudly on the chips. “All I’m saying is that, you made a deal with the devil. And those aren’t the kinds of deals you can break.”

“I don’t intend to break it.” Castiel pledged.

“You better not.” Meg said, throwing the bag of nearly stale chips back at Castiel. She leaned back in her chair, a huge grin stretched on her face. “Cause we’re on this sinking ship together.”

\-- -

It seemed that, just as Castiel was seeing minor improvements in is life, it all had to come crashing down. And on the day that it did, of course it had to be a Sunday.

He had been dealing with going to church his whole entire life, but these past few months had been especially horrible for him. But he dealt with it, as he always did. With clenched fists and deep breaths. He was on the edge of the mental cliff inside his mind and Sunday mornings always threatened to shove him off. But at least now he could sit there listening to the sound of the sermon being given by a man who ruined him, with his thumb nail digging up the scabs of his latest habit’s aftermath. No one would know the difference.

His siblings, even with only their minimal knowledge of why Castiel wouldn’t look any one in the eyes during the sermon, of why he shifted uncomfortably in the silence of prayer, of why his whole body trembled as he took communion, were of course uncomfortable with the whole ordeal, which is why they chose to drive separate from their parents so they could take off as soon as church was over, with Castiel tightly beneath their wings.

Still, the hour or so spent sitting in a pew was agonizing and haunting, and he spent hours after each service numb and spacing out in his bedroom. Except now he had other ways to preoccupy himself aside from just laying their hopeless.

Suffering through each church sermon was probably better than any wrath he would face from his father if he refused to go. So he went and he hated every moment, and every moment spent in that dreaded building was a moment spent wishing it would all end for him. But as soon as the service was over he could flee to the parking lot so that he could breathe again, and no official or townie could interrogate him.

Sundays were dreadful, but so were most days lately.

\-- -

After the morning following the Talbot party and the incident with Dean, Castiel barely saw him around. It was as if Dean took the rejection to heart and had vanished. Not that it really meant anything to Castiel. After all, he was the one who made the call to stomp on any growing friendship before it formed. It was just better that way.

But, Castiel was feeling a bit bitter about it, which made him annoyed with himself. He wasn’t allowed to push Dean away and expect him to keep coming back anyways. Maybe that’s what he wanted though, someone to be relentless to keep him around. But still, it wasn’t until Thursday of the next week that he saw Dean Winchester again. Spacing out in gym class while jogging on a treadmill, he knew he couldn’t avoid Dean.

“Mind if I take this one?” Dean asked him, gesturing to the treadmill next to Castiel. Castiel eyed him suspiciously but nodded, since it was the only other treadmill in the weight room.

“Shouldn’t you be running drills with your teammates or something?” Castiel asked, slowing to a walk, looking out at the few of LHS’s varsity football players throwing a football to each other on the indoor track.

“Nah, Coach doesn’t want me practicing too hard before the big game tomorrow night.” Dean replied, stepping on the treadmill and putting it on the same setting as Castiel’s, a fast paced walk meant to cool down.

Castiel hummed, looking away from Dean and continuing to walk without acknowledging him. He was thankful he wore a lightweight long-sleeved track shirt instead of his short sleeved gym t-shirt, since his wrists were still bandaged up.

“Are you going to the game tomorrow night?” Dean asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

“No.” Castiel replied simply.

“You should, it’s the championship game.” Dean piped hopefully. Castiel squinted at Dean, realizing there must have to be an ulterior motive as to why Dean was bringing this up out of nowhere when they hadn’t even spoken since the morning Castiel woke up hungover and disoriented in his house.

“I barely know anything about football.” Castiel quipped, shutting off his treadmill and heading towards the locker room, water bottle in hand. He could hear Dean follow him and rolled his eyes.

“Hey, wait.” Dean called, and Castiel turned to watch him glance around nervously before following quickly after Castiel into the hallway. No one else was in the weight room to see Dean follow Castiel but there _was_ a giant window that looked into the indoor track. Still, no one was looking in their direction, so Dean proceeded.

“What?” Castiel asked, turning to continue in the direction of the locker room.

“Can I ask a favor?”

“Depends.” Castiel said, opening the locker room doors.

“Listen,” Dean said, placing his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and stopping him. Castiel shrugged him off and finally stopped to listen to him, since Dean obviously wasn’t going to back down. “You met my brother the other morning, remember?”

“Yes, he helped me as I was vomiting profusely.” Castiel replied matter-o-fact-ly.

Dean breathed out a little laugh and shook his head at Castiel’s bluntness. Castiel couldn’t stop his lips from twitching slightly at the way Dean responded to him. The way his eyes fluttered shut and how his deep voice seemed lighter with a gentle laugh, it all made Castiel’s stomach do flips.

“Well, I guess you really got him stuck on you or something ‘cause he’s always asking about you.” Dean said, and Castiel immediately thought of Sam’s expression after seeing the self-inflicted injury on Castiel’s arms. He was still thankful Sam keeping his promise to not tell Dean.

Castiel bit his lip and smiled something small again. “That’s very kind of him.”

“Yeah, he’s a good kid.” Dean paused, shrugging with his lips pulled in a fond smile at the thought of his little brother. “Anyways, he really wants to see me play tomorrow night. And my mom is devastated since she has the night shift at the hospital and can’t come too, but she can’t even take him. So I was wondering if maybe you would take him for me? I know it’s a lot to ask, and I know you said you didn’t want anything to do with me, but I got nothing to lose here so I just thought why the hell not give it a try?”

Castiel stood there in the locker room, completely torn. Because truthfully he wanted to say no. He and Meg were supposed to make plans and hangout. But then again, he worried that maybe he should get on Sam’s good side so that he definitely doesn’t mention anything to Dean about the state of his skin. After all, it seems like he hadn’t mentioned anything as of yet, but how long would Sam’s apparent fondness for Castiel last? It was a lot to risk, and after all, what bad could come from a simple football game?

“C’mon, don’t make me get on my knees and beg here, Cas.” Dean pleaded after a few moments.

Castiel, amused at Dean’s statement, only lifted an eyebrow. Dean let out a frustrated and moved to kneel, but Castiel caught him by the arm and pulled him back up. “Don’t be ridiculous, I wouldn’t make you do that. Although it was a humorous thought.” Castiel said, a hint of laughter in his throat.

“Thank God, that could have gotten weird.” Dean said, running his fingers through his hair.

Castiel let out a deep breath and thought for another second. “I guess I could suffer through one game.”

“Really?” Dean asked, overjoyed.

“Sure.” Castiel sighed.

“Thank you so much, Cas. I’ll find a way to thank you, I will.” Dean promised, smiling widely at him and placing a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it affectionately.

Dean ran out of the locker room after that, satisfied with his answer. Castiel stood there in the empty locker room, still frozen with the realization of his agreement and amazed by the beauty that was Dean Winchester. 


	10. Chapter 9: Game of Facades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! I was out of town and couldn't update before leaving. I hope you all enjoy despite it being a little late. :)

“So what are you gonna wear?” Meg teased, handing Castiel the cigarette she was taking drags off of like it was her job. Their little smoke dates after school were such a normality now.

“It’s not a date, Meg. It’s a football game.” Castiel chided, inhaling the cigarette deeply.

Meg giggled. “It kinda seems like a date.”

“He’s going to be playing on the field, I will be sitting in the bleachers with his little brother. How romantic.” Castiel said sarcastically.

“Whatever. This whole thing is so 21st century Romeo and Juliet.” Meg breathed with another laugh.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “How so?”

“Forbidden, star-crossed lovers. I mean he’s captain of the football team, and you’re my very special little basket-case. And yet you guys still manage to hang around each other despite your very different fates.” Meg’s voice was especially teasing, although she seemed to be partly serious.

“We are not lovers. He just asked for a favor.” Castiel side-eyed Meg but replied simply.

“You are so whipped. What happened to the whole ‘We can’t be friends’ bullshit? I mean the guy asks one favor and you’re already bending over backwards for him. Which I suppose is a step up from idiotic teen suicides in the name of love.” Meg remarked.

“I am not whipped. I just feel like I should still be thanking him for taking me home safe that night after the party, you know? And who cares, you and I will still be able to hangout after, and I get to make sure his brother isn’t a tattle tale.” Castiel had it all figured out.

“Whatever, just don’t forget you have a pretend girlfriend. As I have said before, I am not above marking my territory. I’ll cut a bitch.” Meg pointed, her mouth twitching as a smile made an attempt to make her seriousness falter.

“You’re the one who is, as you said, ‘whipped’.” Castiel replied, returning the teasing with a smirk.

Meg just took the cigarette out of his hands and rolled her eyes.

\-- -

Gabriel sat in the front seat of his car, hands on the wheel and determination in his eyes. Five blankets, several sweatshirts, and a metal canister filled with the sweetest hot chocolate concoction he could create; he was ready.

“So who are we picking up again and why?” Gabriel turned to look at his baby brother in the passenger seat.

“Sam Winchester.” Castiel replied dryly. “His brother asked me to take him to the game.” When Castiel had told them he was going to the football game tonight, both Gabriel and Anna were suspicious, and decided to tag along.

“You don’t even like football.” Gabriel eyed Castiel, not sure of this sudden involvement with the Winchesters. Despite the resentment he harbored for his father, he couldn’t help but remember the things Zachariah said about the Winchester family.

“But you do.” Castiel responded, eyes still watching out the window. It was already dark out, the game would be starting soon. The wind blew harshly against the trees, and Castiel knew that sitting on metal bleachers on such a cold night wouldn’t be fun for anyone.

“It’s okay I guess.” Gabriel mumbled.

Anna finally spoke up from her place in the back seat. “I can’t believe my brother is friends with Dean Winchester, of all people. Especially after the whole Gordon thing.”

Gabriel finally pulled out of the driveway as Castiel shook his head quickly. “We aren’t friends.”

“You’re taking his brother to a football game you normally would have skipped. That’s friendship.” Anna said matter-of-factly. Castiel just rolled his eyes and stayed silent. He didn’t want to have to explain to Anna the circumstances and reasoning’s of his peculiar relationship with the Winchesters.

The ride to the Winchester home was fast, and Sam was already waiting outside, clad in his own warm clothes and blankets. He even had a few bags of candy, as Castiel had suggested he bring to sedate his older brother’s complaining.

“I take back everything, bringing this kid was a wonderful idea.” Gabriel said, taking few mini-candy bars out of the bag the minute Sam sat in the backseat. Sam just laughed and handed him more, sharing a knowing look with Castiel.

“Hello Sam.” Castiel greeted, and Anna nodded a hello from her seat next to him.

“Hey. Thanks for taking me, I really appreciate it.” Sam said humbly.

“Totally cool with it. Now let’s go show some school spirit.” Gabriel said as he shoved a Twix down his throat and started towards the direction of LHS.

The entire school parking lot was crowded, students and staff were wondering around, preparing for the big game before it started. Sam was a chatter box, walking beside Castiel and talking his ears off about how excited he was.

“Dean’s such a great player, Dad said he’ll for sure get a scholarship for college, even Mom agrees. I hope he does well tonight.” Sam said, talking a mile a minute.

“Me too. I only wish I knew football better.” Castiel admitted. They both stopped as Anna ran to get Gabriel, who got distracted by funnel cakes.

“Don’t worry about it, I can teach you.” Sam promised, and Castiel smiled at him.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Don’t worry about it. Anything for the guy who brought me here.”

“Technically that was Gabriel.” Castiel responded.

“Well, that’s why he got candy and you got my verbal gratitude and football mentoring.” Sam said, watching Anna drag Gabriel back to Sam and Castiel, looking like a defeated puppy.

“C’mon, let’s go get seats.” Anna chirped, leading them towards the bleachers.

The game started soon after, and Castiel was caught up by extensive lessons from Sam on the art of football. It was a lot to take in, but Castiel didn’t spend a moment bored. The crowd of students was in an uproar at the game, it was intense and fun, and especially cold. Tucked between Anna and Sam, Castiel didn’t mind.

Castiel did his best to pay attention and watched the LHS team butcher their opponent, eyes following number sixty seven as he went through play after play.

Half-time came soon enough and LHS was winning. Sam was giddy with excitement, expressing how excited he was for his big brother to be doing such a great job.

“You know, he was really happy you decided to come tonight.” Sam said out of the blue during the band’s half-time show.

“He was thrilled I could take you.” Castiel responded.

“But he was excited knowing you would be here, whether or not you took me with.”

Castiel breathed a nervous little laugh. The thought of Dean Winchester being excited about his presence seemed more like a dream than a reality. But here he was.

“I think it’s got a lot to do with his ego and your mysteriousness. Usually everyone is fawning over him, begging for his friendship. But you’re not under the same spell as everyone else, and I think it bothers him. He’s pretty hung up on you.” Sam said, smiling teasingly. Castiel’s eyes bulged, but he just rolled his eyes.

Still in a bit of a daze from Sam’s words, Castiel could barely get a response out. “He said the same thing about you being hung up on me after the morning following the party at the Talbots.”

Sam just laughed. “That was more about concern. You just left that morning after getting really sick and I was worried.”

“Yes, well. I needed to go home. I’m fine now.” Castiel replied, averting his eyes. It was a common thing he did when he lied or avoided the truth, breaking eye contact or playing with his sleeve, usually both.

“Are you?” Sam asked, knowing Castiel was lying. Sam’s eyes trailed to Castiel’s covered arms. Castiel shifted awkwardly and took a deep breath.

“Yes. I’m doing great.” Castiel said, but neither of them found it all that believable.

Sam shrugged. “If you say so. You can keep the sweatshirt, by the way.”

Castiel just lifted his eyes to look at Sam, looking at him warily. Sam just shrugged and returned his eyes to the field, and Castiel was thankful Sam wasn’t pushing it.

The rest of the game went by smoothly, and Castiel was thankful for Sam’s teachings, or he would have been so lost. The game ended when Benny ran the winning touchdown, and Castiel stood up with Sam to clap as all of LHS’s players tackled Benny in joy. Castiel could see Dean in the dogpile.

Anna and Gabriel went to the car immediately since it was so cold, saying their goodbyes to Sam as they left. Castiel stayed behind with Sam, standing against the fence and waiting.

When all the football players emerged to go home, Dean was the last. By then, the place was mostly empty.

“Heya’ Sammy.” Dean greeted, still a sweaty mess and holding his pads in his hands.

“Congrats on winning!” Sam said, making a face when Dean through his sweaty arm over Sam’s shoulder and walked forward a little bit before Sam pushed him away. “You stink.”

“Winning the Championship game will do that.” Dean joked, looking at his little brother fondly.

“Don’t get cocky.” Sam warned.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Celebration burger’s at the Roadhouse?” Dean asked Sam, smiling down at his little brother in a way that reminded Castiel of his relationship with his own siblings.

“Only if you take a shower.” Sam said, giving Dean a playfully disgusted look.

Dean let out a loud laugh and nodded. “Fine.” He turned to face Castiel, smile bright on his face. “Hey Cas.”

“Hello Dean.” Castiel greeted simply, with a little wave of his hand. They were standing in front of the fence that entered the field. There were still some people walking in and out, but they were mostly alone now.

“Enjoy the game?” Dean asked, looking at Sam and then at Castiel, their eyes connecting and not breaking for a long while.

“It was nice. You played very well.” Castiel commented politely. He suddenly broke their lasting eye contact and averted his glance to the ground, hoping he wasn’t blushing for complimenting Dean. Dean smiled softly at Castiel’s slight embarrassment.

“I taught Cas all about football.” Sam interjected, continuing to walk and getting Dean and Castiel to follow, not picking up on the small interactions between them. Dean looked at his little brother and back at Castiel, nodding in approval.

“So at least while Sammy talked your ears off for a couple hours, it was educational?” Dean asked teasingly.

“Oh yes, I learned quite a bit.” Castiel replied, amused.

“Hey, I’m a good teacher!” Sam defended. “I think I we deserve some good food for our achievements tonight. My teaching skills, Cas’ newfound understanding of football, and Dean’s… Oh wait what did you do again?” Sam feigned confusion, and Dean just shook his head and smiled, wrapping an arm around his little brother’s neck and nearly dragging him along, both of them laughing.

“I agree. You in, Cas?” Dean offered as Sam broke out of his chokehold and raised his eyebrows, hoping for Castiel to agree to come with them.

Castiel shook his head with a little smile. “Thank you, but I already have plans.”

“Oh, okay. Do you need a ride home?” Dean asked.

“It’s okay, Anna and Gabriel are waiting for me.” Castiel assured. They stood in an awkward silence for a few moments before Dean cleared his throat and spoke again.

“Alright.” Dean said, sounding let down. “Well, thanks for taking Sam. Thanks for coming. “

“Of course. I’m glad I came, it was… Fun.” Castiel replied, again breaking the eye contact and looking away like he said something that could cause him embarrassment.

“See ya’ around then?” Dean asked after a couple moments. He looked hopefully at the boy walking next to him, the same boy who rejected his friendship again and again, but who Dean couldn’t stop hoping would change his mind.

“I’ll see you around.” Castiel replied, almost with a sigh. He smiled a small thing at Dean, something that signaled that the walls Castiel had put up from the moment he and Dean had met, were beginning to crumble. “Thanks for everything, Sam.” Castiel said, giving them both a little wave before turning to walk in the opposite direction towards Gabriel and Anna. Sam called out a goodbye, and Dean just stood there slightly disappointed.

“Was he cool?” Dean asked, turning to Sam once Castiel was out of ear shot. He didn’t lift his sight from the boy walking away from them.

Sam nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s super nice. He’s attentive and polite, nowhere near as weird as I thought he’d be. I like him. But I feel like… I feel like he’s got some issues.”

Dean started to walk again towards his car, with Sam walking beside him. “Yeah, I feel the same way.” He replied simply, frowning.

Dean didn’t know why Castiel was the way he was. Why he was so distant and cold, reluctant to be friends with someone half the school would kill to be friends with. But it bothered Dean, and he had been cursing his own ego every day since he met Castiel.

Maybe this is what happens when he expects too much from people. He just assumes everyone will like him, and when one doesn’t, his mind becomes set on them until he can convince them otherwise. Dean was likable, charismatic and kind, not just egotistical and an asshole like Gordon. Still, Castiel made Dean doubt himself, made him question if his personality and popularity were both just facades.

Whatever the reason was for wanting to befriend Castiel, Dean couldn’t deny the way the boy made his heart melt, or that there was real, unadulterated concern for the mysterious blue-eyed boy who was the first puzzle Dean just couldn’t solve.

\-- -

Gabriel didn’t mind dropping Castiel off at Meg’s house since it was on the way. He was just desperate to get home and to get warm. Luke would come and pick him up later anyways, so neither Gabriel nor Anna expressed much concern or asked many questions.

“How was the game?” Meg asked when she answered the door.

“We won.” Castiel responded, shaking off his coat and looking at Meg. “How was your night?”

“I have a friend over, if you’d like to meet him.” Meg said, and Castiel noticed the redness of her eyes and the smell of her house. She was high, and of course Castiel was down to de-stress.

“What kind of friend?” Castiel asked, unsure.

“The kind of friend that supplies our other ‘friends’.” Meg said, an evil smile forming on her lips.

Castiel squinted at her but followed as she led him towards the living room. A young man in a dark suit was sitting there, and he glanced up at Castiel with sinister eyes before speaking in a posh voice. “Hello  
Castiel. Meg has told me much about you.  You can call me Crowley.”

Crowley reached out to shake Castiel’s hand, and Castiel shook it warily.  “Nice to meet you…?”

Crowley smirked. “Oh, the pleasure is mine. Care to toke?”

Castiel nodded and let Meg sit him down on the couch and then sit beside him. Castiel could feel himself getting jittery in excitement to smoke. He also noticed there was another girl in the room, younger than all of them, maybe only thirteen. She was just sitting there with red eyes and a spaced out expression, and Castiel recognized her as Meg’s little sister Ruby. His chest pained at seeing such a young girl already doing drugs, but he was no person to judge, being a sixteen year old about to smoke out of the bong behind passed to him.

“Don’t take too big of a hit now, darling, or you’ll get a bad head high.” Crowley warned, voice sultry as if he was trying very hard to give off a seductive vibe. Castiel ignored the creepiness of it, only closing his lips around the mouthpiece and inhaling slowly until Meg tugged on him to stop. He pulled away from the bong and just sat for a moment before falling back into the couch, letting the bliss consume his body and fog over his mind, with only the sound of Meg giggling and taking her own hit before lying beside him.

He lied there for a while, just letting the weed smoke out his mind and clear his thoughts. There was no stress, no anxieties, no worries. Just Castiel, and a high that he rode out for as long as he could.

At some point, possibly hours after his first and only bong hit, Luke came to pick him up. Meg helped him out the door, giving a light kiss on the cheek as a goodbye and handing him his phone with an “I’ll see you later, Clarence”.

Castiel walked to the car parked out front, slowly regaining his mobility. As soon as he opened the passenger door and sat down, he could see Luke with an impressed half-smile. “You smell like a skunk.”

“I’m starving. Can we stop at that burrito place on the corner?” Castiel asked, not even taking in what his older brother was saying, but processing his need for food.

“Sure, I could go for some Mexican food.” Luke shrugged. “I’m assuming you had fun at Meg’s?”

“Oh, it was a blast.” Castiel giggled, actually giggled. Luke just let out a hearty laugh and drove on, not sure when the last time he heard his littlest brother laugh like that.


	11. Chapter 10: Dreadful Memories

The waiting room at Charlie’s office was empty and playing the same soft indie rock it had been playing last week. Except Castiel wasn’t shaking nervously and Michael wasn’t equally as anxious. They were both just distracted on their phones, waiting for Castiel to get called.

Eventually he did, and Castiel wasn’t nearly as scared as he walked down the hallway as he was last time. He was almost excited to see the bouncy little red head he called his therapist.

“Hey Cas!” Charlie greeted with a big smile. She was in a baggy purple sweater and leggings, hair up in a pony and thick, square-rimmed glasses. Castiel smiled at her.

“Hello.” He said simply.

“I brought you a mug of hot water, and an arrangement of tea bags, if you’d like.” Charlie offered, gesturing to the table with said items. Castiel just sat in the bean bag across from her and shook his head.

“Maybe in a bit, but thank you.”

“Of course! So how was your week?” Charlie asked, holding onto her clipboard and staring at Castiel with a friendly face.

“It was alright.” Castiel said, shifting awkwardly.

Charlie hummed and just nodded. “I heard there was a big championship game for your school on Friday? Did you go?”

“I did, actually.” Castiel said.

Charlie’s eyebrows lifted. “You big with sports?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not really. I was actually just doing a favor for a… Friend. I took his little brother with since he was on the field.”

“You have a friend who was on the team?” Charlie asked, trying to mask her surprise.

“Well, we aren’t really friends. We just know each other.”

“Obviously enough for you to hang out with his little brother.” Charlie said, crossing her legs with a suspicious grin. “Speaking of friends though, how are yours?”

“My friends?” Castiel asked, taken off guard by the question.

“Yes, you know, the ones you said were great and all?”

Castiel looked down sheepishly. He was more comfortable with Charlie now, enough to open up a bit of himself to let some truth shine through the cracks. “Honestly, I don’t really have any friends.”

“Not one?” Charlie asked, not in disbelief or surprise, just curiosity. It wasn’t so intimidating, which was one of the redeeming qualities that made Castiel appreciate Charlie more than any other past therapist his parents attempted to have council him.

“Well, there is a girl I’m friends with. We’re kind of close. Her name is Meg.” Castiel admitted.

“When did you two meet?”

“Only a couple weeks ago, actually.” Castiel replied, surprised at how short of a time they’d actually known each other.

Charlie nodded. “How did you guys meet?”

“It was after school. I had a run-in with a couple boys on the football team-“

“The same football team your other ‘not friend’ is on?” Charlie interrupted, the corners of her lips tugging upwards at the inconsistencies. 

“Well he was there, but he didn’t do anything. In fact he kind of helped me. But Meg was there after it happened and she sat with me for a while.” Castiel said, looking at the ground and playing with his sleeves again.

“Do you have run-ins with these boys often?” Charlie asked, obviously concerned.

“Well, only a couple times. I’ve managed to get through most of my high school career fairly unnoticed. But one of the football players decided he didn’t like me and he terrorized me for a little while. But not as of late.” Castiel shrugged it off.

“Are these the same boys who gave you the bruises you had at last week’s appointment?” Charlie asked, remembering the yellowing bruises that decorated his face the first morning he entered her office.

“Yes.” Castiel replied simply, unfazed by the memory.

Charlie nodded again, biting her lip. “I see.”

“I think they got bored.” Castiel pondered. “I’m not a very entertaining target.”

“Hopefully they did get bored, teenage boys can be very cruel. So what about this other friend who isn’t your friend that you have?” Charlie asked, as if she was trying to solve a tongue twister.

“His name is Dean.” Castiel said, eyes gazing out the window now.

“You like Dean.” Charlie knowingly replied, her concerning returning back to her natural amusement.

Castiel’s head snapped up and he looked at Charlie with furrowed brows. “He’s decent I suppose.”

Charlie thought for a moment before opening and closing her mouth. “I hope you don’t get offended by me asking, but do you have a girlfriend? Or, er, boyfriend?”

Castiel’s eyes opened wide. “No. Well, technically me and Meg are ‘together’. But it isn’t serious.”

“’Together’?” Charlie questioned the emphasis.

“It’s more of a cover we formed when those football players started calling me names.”

“So are you and Meg actually dating?” Charlie asked, not exactly following.

“No, I mean we’ll hold hands or she’ll kiss me every now and again, but I think that’s mostly just her being a very touchy and affectionate person. Aside from those minor things, we’re just friends.” Castiel assured.

Charlie opened her mouth and hummed in some sort of understanding. “Have you ever dated anybody before that?” Charlie asked.

“No.” Castiel admitted sheepishly.

“Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed off. I didn’t have my first girlfriend until college.” Charlie reassured.

Castiel gnawed on his lip and looked out the window, the topic of relationships making him uncomfortable.

“What names did those boys call you?” Charlie asked after a few moments.

“Gay, among other, worse, profanities.” Castiel replied, eyes averting to his sleeves, which he began to play with.

Charlie sat up and uncrossed her legs. “Castiel, if I ask you something will you promise not to get mad at me?”

“I suppose.” Castiel complied, looking into the red-heads eyes unsurely.  

“Do you think there could be a chance that you _aren’t_ totally straight?” Charlie asked gently.

“No.” Castiel automatically bit out.

“As a lesbian myself, if you are, this is a safe place to come to terms with that. But if I’m wrong or you aren’t ready, that’s also okay. I don’t want to pressure you into talking about this, but a lot of times teenagers battle with their sexuality. It’s not uncommon, and it’s my job to help you resolve that battle.” Charlie spoke, assuring Castiel that she only had good intentions.

Castiel was frozen, his mind completely stalling. He could barely formulate words, his memories and thought jumbling into an incomprehensible mess. But he realized that here, he could give up on the good Catholic boy façade he had been carrying with him for years. Charlie wasn’t someone hired by his father to “fix” him. She was a normal, modern therapist who would never try to change him, or cover up who he really was. And more importantly, he knew Charlie would see right through it any front he put up. So he took a deep breath, unclenched his fists and shut his eyes, allowing himself to thaw out the slightest bit. “I’m not really sure what I am… What I like.”

“You’re sixteen years old, you have all the time in the world.” Charlie promised, her tone so gentle and soft it made Castiel’s heart jump in his throat. This was a subject that had been under lock and key for so long, shamed until he nearly forgot of its existence. And Charlie being so accepting, so kind… It was extremely unfamiliar.

Castiel stayed silent as Charlie continued to talk. “I know it can be scary, especially if your parents aren’t very accepting. But I found it to be a truly coming of age experience.”

“I would probably get kicked out.” Castiel blurted, spacing out at the thought. “Shunned by my family and hated by the church.”

“Hey, don’t think too much about it. Attracted to the same gender, all genders, or no gender at all, it’s all A-okay. There are certain stigmas attached to each, but if you live with an open mind, you’ll be surprised what you’ll see.” Charlie said, winking at the end.

Castiel just sighed heavily and shook his head. “I wish it were simpler.”

“We all do. But the world is always changing, evolving, and adapting. And you won’t live with those conservative parents forever. There’s a world you have no idea exists, a world way more accepting.”

“Would it be bad if I were…? You know…?” Castiel asked, shifting uncomfortably.

Charlie huffed out a laugh. “You do realize you’re talking to a lesbian, right?”

Castiel’s lips tugged into a half smile and he nodded. “I know, I just mean… My family is so involved with the church and…”

“I get what you’re saying. Church-y people tend to hate on the gays. Which is bullshit if you ask me, because the bible says all sorts of things you aren’t supposed to do, but you still see all these suburban self-righteous people eating shrimp, wearing mixed fabrics, and cutting their hair. You are allowed to believe what you want, because of all that freedom of religion shit. But no one should be allowed to force their views on others and try to decide another person’s faith. The way I see it, your religion should be about you and your relationship with God. Just because my life isn’t one hundred percent devoted to my faith, and I am a lesbian, doesn’t mean God isn’t my bro. Cas, if you wanna believe in God, you should because you want to. In my head, if you’re gonna be religious, you gotta do what God intended. Which is to not judge others and to love thy neighbor, and all that jazz.”

Castiel listened to Charlie’s rant with wide eyes and new levels of understanding. She was opening his eyes to things he had never even thought of. And she was right, she was completely right and Castiel found himself almost overjoyed.

“So… Even if I did formulate feelings for someone of the same sex… I could still remain faithful?” Castiel asked cautiously.

“Of course! You can do whatever the hell you want as long as you aren’t hurting anyone.” Charlie nodded, grinning at him.

Castiel pondered for a second. “What about what happens when I die? They always said God would punish us and we’d burn in hell for sinning like that.”

“I feel like the whole “You’re gonna burn in hell!” and “God will punish you!” thing is more of an exaggeration or a scare tactic. The bible also says Jesus died for our sins and that God forgives and loves all his children despite their sins so I mean I’m no preacher, but I think we’re fine. There are, in my opinion, worse sins people choose to commit, than this one “sin” that we can’t even control in the first place” Charlie replied, shrugging.

Castiel kept thinking hard about the eye-opening statements Charlie was making. Is it true that he had it wrong all these years? Could he eventually escape the hatefulness he was living in for something more? Had his parents brainwashed him with lies constructed to benefit their own agenda?

There was a painful reminder in the back of Castiel’s head at the extensive measures his parents had gone through to ensure his heterosexuality. But now knowing that those measures might have been bullshit anyways is what left Castiel with a heavy chest and his body aching for something that would take him away form his own head.

“Earth to planet Castiel.” Charlie waved a hand in front of his face after Castiel had been spacing out for a while.

“Sorry...” He apologized, coming back to his senses. “I lost myself there for a bit.”

Charlie gave him a knowing look. Castiel just kept his eyes on the ground and tried not to let his mind drift back into those dreadful memories for the rest of his appointment. He had been trying that for the past few months, and he would continue for the rest of his life. But some memories are harder to shake than others, and that was a lesson Castiel knew all too well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: I know I'm shitty with updates lately but I've been beyond busy these past two weeks. But now my schedule is nearly empty so I'm hoping I'll update more regularly?? Hopefully. But thanks for reading, please leave kudos and comments! <3


	12. Chapter 11: Already Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter for all of you! Thanks for all the comments and kudos, it means a lot. Just a couple warnings: Underage drinking and smoking, anxiety attacks, and descriptions of self-harm.

They say time flies by when you’re having fun, but they never said how it soars when you spend most of your days high as a kite and your weekends drunk as hell. The rest of September after meeting Meg was a blur of school and drug hazed evenings. Keeping up with schoolwork was becoming increasingly difficult for Castiel, which was a first for him. Usually he was able to balance school and his home life, but between showing up to school half asleep and slightly high on most days, and then going home and getting even higher, he had a hard time getting all his work done.

As October came and went, Meg introduced him to Adderall, which he took when he really needed to focus, which tended to be most days. Miraculously Castiel was managing a B average, which may have been subpar… But at least he wasn’t failing. The only reason he wasn’t failing was because he wasn’t doing anything besides going to school and hanging out with Meg. If he had to balance other friends or extracurricular activities, he’d be screwed.

The only reason he still even gave a shit about school was because if his grades really started to slip his parents would intervene, and who knows what Zachariah would do. He would investigate the circumstances of his youngest child tarnishing the family name and cut off anything that was causing it. And the last thing Castiel needed was his drug explorations to be exposed.

Along with new drugs and smoking methods, Castiel’s self-harming habits were especially booming. Thankfully the weather was turning colder, because the need for long sleeves was essential lately. Even Meg, who was decorated in scars, was impressed by Castiel’s rapidly growing collection. He had moved from wrists, to arms, to hips, to stomach, to legs. Deeper and deeper, but at least he wasn’t huddled in a dark room unable to function. Meg, being the basket-case that she was, saw it as a good thing. And so did Castiel. But if Charlie were to find out, it would be a whole different story.

In the next few appointments Castiel had with Charlie, they mostly talked about little things. Castiel wasn’t ready to unleash the darkness he was hiding. In fact, he was doing his best to forget it. And it was working. Charlie let him skip a few appointments here and there because she felt that until he was ready to open up, there wasn’t much she could do beyond making it clear that her office was a safe, non-judgmental zone. She was still under the impression that he was getting better, because Castiel was better at acting than he thought. Plus, there was nothing to get sad about when you were high as fuck.

As Halloween was approaching, Meg came up with idea of throwing a huge party, and of course Castiel was all over that.

“My dad won’t be home. Not that he’d care either way, but we can do whatever we want. Crowley can supply some premium shit, we can invite the whole damn school.” Meg rambled, staring at her ceiling next to Castiel.

“Would anyone even come?” Castiel asked.

“Where there’s mass amounts of alcohol and weed, there’s people.” Meg promised, smiling devish-ly at Castiel, who of course had to agree.

So they planned a Halloween banger. They invited everyone, ensured that it was the place to be the night of Halloween, and surprisingly it was the buzz of the school for the next couple weeks. Even Gabriel and Anna had asked Castiel about it, but he forbade them from going.

“What do you mean we aren’t allowed to go?” Gabriel gawked. Anna stood in the kitchen with her arms crossed. It was two am the Friday before, and Luke had just gotten Castiel, who was absolutely starving with munchies, back home. Gabriel and Anna had ambushed him in the kitchen.

“What are people going to think if they see two Novak’s at the party?” Castiel asked, holding a box of cereal in his hands.

“Cas, _you’re_ a fucking Novak.” Anna bit, obviously pissed off. Her vibrant hair matched perfectly with the shade of red anger on her face.

“I know, but I’m the coolest Novak.” Castiel said with a toothy, intoxicated grin, while pouring himself a bowl of cereal and shoving a spoonful into his mouth.

Gabriel scoffed, looking exasperatedly at Anna. “Yeah, how the hell did that happen? You know what, don’t even want to know. But what I do know is that I really don’t like Meg. She’s no good for you, Cas. I mean look at you. You’re obviously high and who knows what’s gonna be at this party? What’s next, you’re gonna be snorting crack off of a hooker’s-”

“I think what Gabriel is trying to say,” Anna interrupted, giving an angry Gabriel an annoyed eye roll. “Is that we think we should come so that we can make sure nothing weird is happening. We’re glad to see you’re doing well, but we still have the right to worry about you.”

“You’re just saying all this ‘cause you’re pissed I told you you’re not allowed to come.”  Castiel rolled his eyes.

“No, we’re concerned.” Anna repeated harshly.

“Well don’t be! I’m doing great. And yes, you know what, it might be because of some self-medicating. But Meg is the first friend I’ve had in years and I’m still doing fine in school as well as staying out of major trouble. So don’t worry about me.” Castiel said, eyes still focused on his bowl of cereal.

Gabriel and Anna shared defeated looks. “Okay fine, but it’s still a party the entire school is invited to. Why can’t we come?” Gabriel asked, frowning.

“Because it might be an open invitation, but it won’t be your crowd, Gabriel. Because, Anna, you aren’t a partier. Because you’re my older brother and my twin sister and I don’t want you guys breathing down my neck at a party where there’s going to be alcohol and drugs, just because all you do is worry about me. You know neither of you will have a good time, you just want to go to keep an eye on me.”  Castiel said, and neither Gabriel nor Anna could rebuttal.

After a few minutes, Gabriel finally sighed. “Fine, but you know I love a good party so the next one, I’m going.” He said, before walking off with Anna following him.

Castiel just shrugged and finished his bowl of cereal.

It was Meg’s idea to do basic Halloween costumes, since they were the hosts. And what was better fitting for them then a demon costume for Meg and an angel costume for Castiel?

The next Friday night came quickly, and Meg and Castiel were eagerly setting up for the party. Crowley stopped by with some of his friends to set up speakers and a bar. Both Meg and Castiel pitched in, since Meg had a job at the Seven-Eleven up the street and had been saving up her last few paychecks. Castiel pulled out of his savings, but no one had to know that.

They told people to come at around nine, so at eight-thirty they were finishing up their costumes. (Crowley even brought a couple of bouncers for fifty bucks each, since Meg was pretty adamant about no costume, no entry.) Upstairs in Meg’s bathroom with EDM vibrating through the walls downstairs, Castiel let her mess up his hair with some gel and hairspray for the especially messy, but clean look. She had commanded he be clean-shaven and well-groomed.

“You’re really into Halloween.” Castiel observed, very amused.

Meg chuckled, “Yeah well, I wasn’t really a trick-or-treater as a kid. But I do love my costumes.” She shook around her bouncy curls before putting her big, black-horned headband on. Clad in a red and black leathered, corseted, and extremely short dress, as well as fishnets and high-heals, Meg was all demon-like and ready to go.

Castiel let Meg dress him in a white dress-shirt and an iridescent blue tie (“It matches your eyes!”), as well as black dress pants with a pair of small angel wings on his back. Simple, but efficient.

At around nine, Castiel was lighting up a joint. He wanted to start out the night with a lighter high. There was a specific table just for smoking, and then the bar, naturally. Usually he would be paranoid of such illegal activities. But Meg lived in a sketchier part of town, where it was likely her neighbors would show up to buy a gram before they called the cops. Even still, Crowley had people outside the house who would call him if cops were paroling nearby.

It was interesting to have Crowley there. He was older, but not by too much. Meg said she met him through his father’s friends, and he was fond of the business he did for her, so he didn’t mind participating in parties like these. He was just a lurker, more than anything. Watching and waiting. He made good investments, and Meg was one of them, because Crowley knew that the people leaving this party after tonight would be so impressed, they’d come back for more. And the best way for Crowley to make profit was through Meg.

Nine-thirty came, and waves of people started showing. It started slow, but by ten the house was really filling up.

Castiel was mostly impressed by the decorating they had done. He found some black lights in his basement that they hung up, as well as white and red Christmas lights. Plus, a strobe light that Meg had found in hers. And those were their only light sources. They but black garbage bags over walls and windows, even took laundry detergent to write scary stuff on them and the walls, since the UV lights would illuminate the detergent. Along with that, Ruby got a smoke machine from a friend, so that was going off. Aside from that, it was the cotton spider webs and some skulls from the dollar store that finished it off.

Feeling pretty high, Castiel mostly stood with Meg or walked around aimlessly, greeting those who greeted him. The music was so loud he could feel his bones rattle. At some point a drink ended up in his hand, and he didn’t care about the “Don’t drink unless I gave it to you” Rule Meg had enforced. She wasn’t there and he downed the burning liquid to double his high, and kept moving.

The first hour or two went by slowly, but Castiel was glad to see so many people there. He had worried briefly about people not showing, but it seemed like half the school was there. It was even getting stuffy and hot in the crowded room filled with drunk, high, and dancing people in all kinds of costumes.

As eleven-thirty rolled around, Castiel could feel his high slowing. So he made his way back to the table where Crowley was standing, needing to amp back up.

“Already falling, angel?” Crowley asked, and Castiel didn’t care for the nickname or the sultriness of his voice, just the drugs he was helping distribute.

A couple girls standing there smoking a joint giggled and stared at Castiel, but he didn’t even look their way. Just gestured to the bong. Crowley nodded, and helped pack it.

“How’s it going?” Meg said, popping up suddenly besides Castiel. She noticed the girls staring and grabbed Castiel’s cheeks, giving him a big, red-lipstick kiss. It took him by surprise, he wasn’t expecting the sudden jealous affection, but he just gave Meg a weird look and shrugged it off. “Apparently half the girls at this party have the hots for you, but I’m gonna make it clear who called dibs.” Meg said with an evil smile. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a distinct lipstick print. Castiel just laughed and shook his head.

“You are very protective tonight.” Castiel said, eyes on the weed Crowley was putting in the bowl of the bong, not on the beautiful girl standing next to him.

“Yeah well I know you’re not interested in that anyways.” Meg said, eyeing the girls and speaking even louder. Castiel watched them startle off, which he found amusing.

“You taking a hit of this, Meg?” Crowley asked.

“Hell yeah!” She exclaimed.

Castiel let her go first, since she wouldn’t take that much. She was obviously drinking as well, and had only even come over to see what Castiel was doing. As soon as she was done, Castiel was taking her place. Lips in the mouthpiece and Meg’s hand on his back as he bent over slightly, he inhaled and let the smoke fill his lungs. He closed his eyes, and just as he was running out of air space and about to stand up, he opened them and was met with the face of Dean Winchester watching him across the room.

He stood up and immediately began coughing, hearing Meg laughing next to him and patting his back. He hadn’t coughed this bad from a hit in weeks, but seeing Dean’s face of sheer surprise and concern, mixed with a little anger, had his lungs aching and emptying.

But still, he could feel the high creeping out and into his bloodstream. Hooded eyes, and a warmth in him, he was once again distracted by Meg kissing him and a bunch of people clapping around him. It seemed that the entire room of people got a kick out of seeing the hosts intoxicated and making out. 

Meg, high and drunk, and everything in between, stood up on a near chair to grab everyone’s attention.

“LET’S PARTY!” She screamed, and one of Crowley’s guys, the unofficial DJ, kicked up the volume even more.

Everyone screamed and clapped, and Meg jumped down, smiling at Castiel once more before running into the crowd. Castiel watched her go, still hazy until he felt someone grab his shoulder.

“Cas?” He heard his name, and he whipped around at the touch to see Dean.

“Hello Dean.” He said, voice still hoarse from the hit. Dean’s fake bloodied face was still mixed with concern.

“Were you just smoking?” Dean asked, having to yell over the music.

“If you’re here to lecture me you can leave.” Castiel snapped, not sounding nearly as snarky as he had intended, but still turning around to pick up his drink from earlier off the table in a mock cheers before downing what was left.

Dean opened his mouth but was interrupted by a little blonde in a sexy ninja costume standing in between them.

“Dean, relax.” She said at Dean, looking annoyed. She turned to Castiel. “My name’s Jo, I’m a friend of Dean’s.” She said, outstretching her hand. Castiel shook it warily, but was comforted by friendly smile.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Castiel.”

“Yeah, Dean’s told me all about you.” Jo gushed, and Castiel looked over to give Dean an _Oh really?_ look. Dean just looked at the ceiling like he was curing God, and shut his eyes in embarrassment.

“That’s interesting.” Castiel said, a faint smile on his lips. He looked over at the bong and other collections on the table beside him and gestured to it as if to ask Jo if she wanted any.

“Oh. No thank you, I’ll stick to beer.” She said, lifting her glass with her own little smile.

“And you Dean?” Castiel asked, just to be polite. He was giving Dean a look, almost mocking, since it was obvious he didn’t approve.

“Uh, no. I’m staying sober tonight.” He said stiffly.

“Suit yourself. I like your guys’ costumes.” Castiel said.

“Thanks dude! I thought a ninja warrior was a good fit for me. Tried to get Dean here to match me, but he was into the traditional zombie look.” Jo said, taking sips of her beer in between sentences.

It was silent for a moment before Castiel’s high brought out his lack of a filter. “So, are you two dating?”

“No!” They both said in horrified unison. “Dean’s like a big brother to me. Our families are close.”

Castiel nodded, noticing the way Dean was staring at him. He changed the subject. “Is Sam well?”

“Yeah, he told me to keep an eye on you tonight, actually.” Dean said, chuckling. Castiel playfully rolled his eyes and smirked. Meg walked by just then with a drink for Castiel, and he took it thankfully.

Meg looked Dean up and down and smirked. “Zombie? Lame.”

“Says the girl in a demon costume. Could you be any less original?” Dean asked, all attitude and disapproval. Meg just gave him a dirty look.

“It matches my personality. And Cas is just so angelic looking that we couldn’t pass up this wonderful opportunity to be a demon and an angel.” Meg said, matching Dean’s cranky tone.

Jo, obviously getting a good buzz, leaned forward to look up at Cas, squinting. “You are kind of godly.”

They all laughed at that, and at least it helped ease some of the tension between Dean and Meg. Why there was tension there, Castiel couldn’t understand. But with a drink in his hand and his head in a hazy cloud, he didn’t care.

They chatted a little more beyond that, and Castiel realized that he really did like Jo. She was playful, not stuck up. And she reminded Castiel of a female version of Dean. They were very much like brother and sister too, which lifted a weight of unfamiliar anxiety off of Castiel’s chest. Because the thought of Jo being his girlfriend and/or date didn’t sit well with him.

With some alcohol in all of their systems, and weed in Meg’s and Castiel’s, they somehow ended up on the dance floor. The strobe light was really tripping Castiel out, and in between Meg and Jo, he didn’t even feel like he was on Earth anymore.

Who knows how long they danced for? It could have been minutes, or even hours. But Castiel was so caught up in the feeling of not really feeling, that he didn’t care if months passed on that dancefloor. Meg was all over him, and he could feel Dean watching him every second. Other people came and went, and there were bodies constantly on him. And Castiel never felt more alive right there.

At some point Meg and Jo, who were actually getting along quite well, ran off to go to the bathroom and get another drink. Which left Castiel and Dean all to themselves.

“I am so hungry.” Castiel admitted, following Dean off of the dancefloor and into the kitchen. He grabbed a water bottle, since his cotton mouth was devastating.

“Wanna get out of here?” Dean asked suddenly, licking his lips. They were alone in the dark kitchen, and Castiel was so shocked by the question, he stood up from where he was searching through cabinets for a snack so quick he almost fell over. He was flustered, but he thanked his high-self for his resilience.

Castiel’s lips pulled into a teasing smirk and he tilted his head forward. “Why, Dean. Are you trying to get me alone?” Castiel jokingly scoffed. “Shouldn’t you at least buy me a drink first?”

Dean’s jaw dropped, fear rushing through his features. But when Castiel burst into laughter at his reaction, Dean just blushed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head and letting out a low laugh. “Shut up. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well now I’m just offended.” Castiel interjected, mockingly insulted.

“I just meant that if you’re hungry, and so am I, and there’s no good food lying around anywhere, then we could go run up to that McDonald’s up the street if you want to. I’m sober and I have a car.” Dean offered. Lifting his keys out of his pocket and shaking them. Castiel thought for a moment and slowly began nodding.

“I was just fucking with you, and I _could_ really go for a Big Mac right now.” Castiel said, smiling in return to Dean’s growing grin.

“Let’s go then.” Dean said, and Castiel nodded, turning around to go find Meg and tell her he’d be right back.

He found her leaning on the bar next to Jo. “Hey, I’m leaving but I’ll be back in a little bit.” He said in giddy excitement, taking off the wings he was wearing on his back and placing them next to the makeshift bar table. Meg looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed and confusion in her eyes. “Where the hell are you going?”

“Dean and I are hungry, we’re going to McDonalds.” He said, looking over to where Dean was standing by the door.

“Oh.” Meg said. “Alright, hurry back.” She pressed a kiss goodbye to his cheek and let him run off, not before yelling “Use a condom!” and falling into a fit of laughter with Jo.

“What did she just yell?” Dean asked, opening the front door for them to walk through.

Castiel shook his head with the tiniest grin. “Nothing.” Dean shrugged and led the way towards his car.

And Castiel followed, because he didn’t care that he told himself he wouldn’t allow himself to be friends Dean. Forget that he didn’t deserve popular Dean Winchester as a companion, forget that he thought Dean was the most beautiful being to have ever entered his life, forget that Castiel wouldn’t allow himself to befriend him because that meant he could fall for him and that was the worst thing he could do. Forget all that, because after his last appointment with Charlie, he was seeing things differently now. He realized, as he stepped up to the passenger side of a big black car and saw the way Dean’s face lit up in a smile as he proudly introduced Castiel to his “baby”, that he could let himself be friends with Dean. He could, because Dean was safe and good and Castiel wasn’t afraid anymore.

They drove with the windows down, and Castiel couldn’t stop smiling. “What has you so happy?” Dean asked, classic rock low in the background. Castiel turned to look at him, still in a high daze. He observed the way Dean was looking at him, his own soft smile playing on his lips.

“I just feel good.” Castiel said, leaning back into his seat and closing his eyes, the fall air hitting his face.

Dean laughed a little and turned the music up slightly. “That’s good.”

“It is.” Castiel agreed. And it was.

They went through the drive-thru, two Big Mac Meals in their possession, they pulled into the parking lot to eat.

Castiel didn’t noticed Dean watching him when he took his first bite, groaning at the wonderful taste. “These make me very happy.”

“I’m glad we did this.” Dean agreed, enjoying his own burger.

“Me too.”

Dean looked over at Castiel again, smiling at the boy whose cheeks were stuffed. Castiel tried not to snort when he looked over to see Dean staring at him.

And then they were just in a fit of the giggles, laughing until their stomach’s hurt and there were tears in their eyes. It was stupid, to be laughing for no real reason, except for the fact that Castiel was high and couldn’t help himself. But neither of them cared. They just kept laughing. And when they both settled down, they sat in silence and continued eating.

“Fuck.” Castiel said, noticing the stains on his sleeves from Big Mac sauce. “Meg will kill me.”

“Here.” Dean said, sitting up with empty hands to help Castiel roll up the sleeves since he was still holding his messy burger in the other. Being high and slow in general, Castiel didn’t react fast enough to stop Dean. Preoccupied with the mess of a cheeseburger in one hand and the thought of Dean touching him, he didn’t even realize what his sleeves were hiding until it was too late.

He hissed when Dean’s knuckles rubbed against the sensitively maimed skin, and Dean was reeling back immediately when he saw in the dim light of the McDonalds parking lot, what exactly Castiel had been hiding under his sleeves.

“Cas, what the hell?” Dean wondered out loud, and Castiel was immediately in panic mode when the realization hit him. He ripped his arm back, threw the rest of his burger into the bag they were using as a makeshift garbage. He wiped sauce off of his fingers with a napkin and tried to roll back down his sleeve. But his hands were shaking too hard and he managed to tear a scab. And then he was bleeding and everything had gone to hell. His high disappeared and he could feel this empty, white-hot pain wash over him like lava. Dean had seen, Dean was sitting there confused and horrified, and Castiel had ruined everything.

But then Dean wasn’t just sitting there, he just picked up a napkin and gently reached to place his hand on Castiel’s forearm, calm and determined. And Castiel was biting his lip just to stop tears, and his knee was bouncing up and down to hide how much his body was shaking. Castiel let Dean turn his arm over to expose the side that was horribly cut up, he let Dean gently place the napkin over the cut that had broken open again and was gushing blood. He inhaled sharply again, sighing a shaky breath and looking out the window.

“What happened?” Dean asked after a few moments of silence.

Castiel just bitterly laughed. “Is it not self-explanatory?”

Dean just pursed his lips and shook his head. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

Castiel paused, trying to come up with some witty remark to throw Dean off. Some mechanism to avoid having to talk about this. He hadn’t even told Charlie, and now he was expected to tell Dean Winchester? He couldn’t. He could barely come to terms with this horrible habit on most days.

“We don’t have to talk about it. I just… I just worry. You know? Ever since the day behind the school when we ran into each other and Gordon made you cut your hand on that glass. And then in the hallway when he beat you up. Even in the bathroom at school and then in the bathroom at the Talbot’s. I never really knew you before any of that. But I knew of you. And I knew you were a Novak, and you always looked like you were okay. But I’ve known for weeks that you really aren’t. I didn’t know what to do since it’s not like we were friends…” Dean confessed, and Castiel swallowed back the choking sob he almost let out. For weeks he had been living under the impression he was getting better, that he was okay and that he had everyone convinced of that, as well as himself. And to hear that it’s all bullshit broke him further.

“It’s fine. I’m fine, it’s nothing really, just a stupid little thing I do. I’m okay.” Castiel assured in a shaky firmness. He tried to give a convincing smile but he knew Dean wasn’t buying it.

Dean shook his head, dabbing the napkin on Castiel’s arm lightly to see if it was still bleeding. “No you’re not.”

Castiel’s smile faltered and he closed his mouth, looking away from Dean and taking a deep breath from the tears welling in his eyes. He bit his lip harder, and tried to pull himself together, but it just wasn’t happening. All these weeks of telling himself that he was okay, and Dean Winchester tells him once that he’s not, and finally he can see all the lies.

“You can’t tell anyone.” Castiel gasped after a few minutes, a feverish look in his eyes. “If anyone were to find out…”

Dean put up a hand to calm Castiel. “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief and sat back a little. “Thank you.”

“I want you to stop.” Dean said, and Castiel sat up again in confusion.

“What?” He bit.

“I want you to stop.” Dean repeated. “Cutting yourself, doing drugs and getting drunk all the time. You’re partying for all the wrong reasons, Cas. It’s not healthy.”

Castiel stared at Dean as if he’d been burned. “I don’t have to do _shit_ for you.”

“Castiel, have you noticed that on more than one occasion I have been there to help you when you’re bleeding? Both those days when Gordon got you, even now.” Dean said voice turning harsher as he spoke while Castiel was still startled by the use of his full name. “I’m not asking you to stop for me. I’m asking you to stop for yourself. And because I don’t want to have to be the one to find you when you’re bleeding out for the last time.”

Castiel shook his head and smiled angrily, looking away from Dean. He couldn’t take the confinement of this car, so he got out of it. Opened the door and started walking towards the field that would eventually take him back to Meg’s house.

“Cas!” Dean called, running after him.

“Leave me alone.” Castiel said, hard as stone now.

“Cas.” Dean breathed, catching up to him. He placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder to try and stop him, but Castiel whipped around angrily. 

“Don’t. I do not need this from you. I don’t need another person trying to make me feel guilty for all this. Don’t you think I feel guilty already? Don’t you think if I could stop, I would have by now?”

“Cas, that’s not what I-“

“But it is. God, I wish I hadn’t been so idiotic. I hate the way you look at me. It’s just how everyone else looks at me. Like I’m some fragile explosive that could blow up in your face if you aren’t gentle enough. And you know what, I am. But I have a reason to be. You don’t know shit about me, Dean Winchester. You don’t know the weight that I carry, and how it’s dragging me to the ground. You don’t understand how these habits are the only things keeping my head above the water. So until you have found a solution, don’t just tell me to stop, as if that would help at all.” Castiel was yelling, tears in his eyes and rage in his clenched fists. He was angry, he was devastated and numb. So numb that he could barely feel his body when he collapsed in the middle of the parking lot with only Dean to catch him.

“Hey, hey.” Dean said, sinking down on his knees in front of Castiel to keep him from falling over.

Castiel could feel Dean hesitantly wrapping his arms around him, unsure if it was okay, but not knowing what else to do. It was like the world was spinning, his high coming back like a punch to the face and making it harder to breathe. Except it wasn’t a bad body high, it was an anxiety attack that he should have seen coming. But now all he could do was shut his eyes and breathe hard and wait for it to be over, since he had no razors to run to.

“Cas?” Dean asked, realizing that Castiel hadn’t collapsed for no reason. He helped Castiel sit back, so that he was no longer on his knees.  

Castiel didn’t respond, just brought his knees to his chest and buried his fingers in his hair, forehead to his kneecaps. Hunched over and curled up, at least Dean couldn’t see his tears. But he could hear the way he was breathing. Castiel squeezed his fingers in his hair with such a strength, he wouldn’t be surprised if he ripped some out.

He should have known this would happen. It started in the car and now it was progressing. All he could do was sit in the middle of the empty McDonald’s parking lot and hope he could settle down enough to muster up whatever pride he had left to get back to Meg’s. Or go home and go to sleep.

“Hey,” Dean said, gently reaching up to untangle Castiel’s finger’s from his hair. Castiel didn’t even put up a fight, just felt Dean move to sit next to him, his hands still in Dean’s. “Come on, just breathe. Match your breathing to mine.”

Castiel, still having his head on his knees, could feel his shaky left hand being lifted and placed on Dean’s chest, right so that he could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. With his fingers pressed against the fabric of Dean’s chest, he actually tried matching their breathing. It was easier said than done, but after a few more minutes, they were breathing in time together. Castiel managed to even suppress the tears, and when a couple more moments went by, turned so that his temple was on his knees instead of his forehead, and he could see Dean.

“You’re good at that.” Castiel said, voice hoarse.

“With what?” Dean wondered.

“Helping someone through an anxiety attack.”

“Yeah well, my brother used to get them a lot. Better?” Dean asked, letting go of Castiel’s hand with a gentleness that Castiel was not used to.

Castiel nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry… I feel embarrassed. My previous words and actions were uncalled for and-“

“Cas, don’t do that. Don’t get all robotic on me and apologize.” Dean interrupted. “There’s no need for it. You were right, I was overstepping my boundaries. I should have known not to be so quick to ask that of you. I was being a dick. So I’m sorry.”

Castiel rubbed at his eyes and finally sat up. “This is so fucked up.” He let out a little bit of manic laughter.

“Why?” Dean asked curiously.

Castiel looked straight ahead of him in deep thought. “It just is. I mean, we’re at a Halloween party, I’m high as fuck. We leave to get McDonalds, and somehow by just the off chance you go to help me pull up my sleeve, and everything’s fucked. I mean I’ve been careful for _months_ , and something as stupid as that gets me. And now you’re apologizing.” Cas let out another crazed laugh.

“It is kind of unfortunate.” Dean laughs, and they both laughed together for just a moment. “I’m sorry it happened though. I mean in a selfish way I’m glad I know. But I get that you weren’t ready to tell people.”

Castiel shrugged. “It definitely terrified me, you knowing, I mean. But I think now, you knowing doesn’t bother me so much.” Castiel looked up to find Dean staring at him.

“Really?” Dean asked. “Does Meg know?” He continued, suddenly serious.

“Yes.” Castiel confessed. “She was the only one who know. She was the only who told me about it.”

“I told you she’s bad news.” Dean mumbled.

“This wasn’t her doing. She might have exposed me to her habits but she did not pick up the blade and cut me. I chose to do this. This was my own mutilation.” Castiel said defensively.

Dean put up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. All I’m saying is, if it weren’t for your girlfriend, you might not have gotten this habit in a first place.

Castiel wanted to tell Dean that he and Meg weren’t really together, that he might not even like girls. But he couldn’t, even if Dean knew this secret, there was no certain way in knowing he could be trusted. So he just sighed and said, “Well, if it wasn’t for Meg showing me alternatives, it’s likely I would have broken and been six feet under by now.”

“Do you really believe that?” Dean asked, honestly curious.

“With all my being.” Castiel responded. And they just looked at each other for a while, as if they were having some deep mental conversation.

Dean looked down at Castiel’s arms from where they sat against the curb, with curious eyes and uncountable bravery he finally spoke again. “Can I see them?”

“You already did.” Castiel said, uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to show me. I’m just curious.” Dean admitted.

Castiel stared at him, finding truth in his words. He sighed and began rolling up his sleeves, exposing both forearms that were scarred and cut and scabbed everywhere.

Dean frowned at them and leaned forward. “Do they hurt?”

“That’s the point.” Castiel said, back to his normal wit.

“Is it annoying though? I mean, just on an everyday basis? In the moment it’s probably nice but when you’re just doing everyday stuff, does having them get irritating?” Dean asked.

“Well, yes. I can’t wear short sleeves when I’m hot. Showering makes them burn. There’s always a chance for infection. Often my clothes have blood on them from the scabs tearing.” Castiel answered carefully.

“Are there more?” Dean asked warily.

Castiel looked up from his arms and nodded.

Dean thought for a second. “Where?”

Castiel cocked his head to the side before responding. “My upper arms. My stomach and hips. Thighs.”

Dean swallowed and let his eyes trail over Castiel’s body. “Why do you do it?”

With a roll of his eyes, Castiel let out a sigh. “It is a wonderful distraction. Releases endorphins in the brain and almost gives you a sense of relief, even if it’s sort of ironic.”

“No,” Dean said. “I mean, why do you need to do it?”

Castiel’s face paled and he shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean backtracked. “That’s fine, I just- You just said that you’ve seen some shit so I was wondering what you meant. But we don’t have to talk about it, unless you want to.”

“If I won’t even tell my shrink about it, what makes you think I’ll tell you?” Castiel asked.

“I didn’t think you’d tell me. I just was going off of the slim chance you might.”

“Well, I won’t.”

“Okay.” Dean breathed, and they were staring again.

Castiel yawned. “We should get back.”

“Are you tired?” Dean asked.

“Yes, but after this fiasco I’d like to get drunk before I go to sleep tonight.” Castiel said, but then he paused. “What time is it?”

“Uh, 1:30.” Dean responded, checking his phone.

“Shit.” Castiel whispered, pulling out his phone.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“My brother should have texted me by now. So, he’s probably asleep and won’t be coming to pick me up in thirty minutes.” Castiel said, letting out a frustrated groan.

“I can give you a ride home.” Dean said.

“No, your car is too loud it would wake up my parents. Plus, I don’t have a key and Anna, Gabriel, and Michael aren’t home right now.” Castiel said, trying to sort out in his head what he was going to do.

“Do… Do you need a place to crash?” Dean asked hesitantly.

Castiel looked up at Dean in deep thought. “Well, my parents do think I was at a friend’s studying tonight.”

“Is that a yes?” Dean asked, a small smile on his face.

Not sure how he felt about sleeping at Dean’s house, Castiel did realize that at least that way he could get drunk instead of trying to run home and wake up Luke to unlock the front door. Breathing out yet another sigh. “I suppose so.”

“Sweet, let’s get back to Meg’s then. I guess after this horribly traumatic past half hour you deserve a nice little treat.” Dean said, standing up and putting out a hand for Castiel.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Castiel asked suggestively, taking Dean’s hand and standing up as well. They headed back to Dean’s classic black car, a 67 Chevy Impala, as Castiel rolled back down his sleeves.

Dean let out a soft chuckle and nodded in disbelief. “I guess I am.”

They drove back to Meg’s in comfortable silence, and Castiel felt anxious but also safer knowing Dean knew his secret. Especially since Dean hadn’t freaked, only been concerned.

Meg’s house was still slightly booming when they got back. Except, most people were super intoxicated by now, and the lights were lower when they walked in because everyone was in a corner making out with someone.

Music still loud, Castiel and Dean walked through the house in search for a bottle of alcohol or two, and Meg. They traveled upstairs with a bottle of fireball they found, hoping to find Meg and Jo up here.

Not surprisingly, they were in Meg’s room. Half-asleep but still mumbling next to each other on the bed, drunk as can be.

“Cas!” Meg said, seeing him walk in. She sat up quickly, but regretted that instantly and laid back down.

“Hello Meg. Jo.” He greeted, Dean walking behind him.

“How was your guys’ food?” Jo asked, burping for good measure.

“Good.” Dean said, glancing at Castiel knowingly. “How drunk are you?”

“Extremely.” Jo giggled.

“I think you both need to go to bed before you get sick.” Castiel said.

“No, let’s party!” Meg tried to yell, but hiccupped and completely gave up. She was past drunk, and completely wasted.

Castiel helped Meg sit up on the bed, took her stilettos off and the pins and horned headband out of her hair. He even took off her fishnets and found a huge t-shirt in a drawer next to her bed. Castiel looked at Dean, who was watching him with surprise. “Turn around.” Castiel said, and so Dean did.

Castiel was very gentle helping Meg out of her dress because he knew she’d be uncomfortable sleeping in it. Making sure she wasn’t completely exposed, he helped her with the t-shirt on before she took off her bra. He helped her lay down in the bed and pulled the blanket over her, kissing her on the forehead like the good friend he was. Sometimes he forgot they weren’t truthfully dating, since they did act like it. But Castiel wasn’t sexually attracted to Meg, it was more of friendly attraction that pushed on the friendly barriers.

Castiel stood up and looked over at Jo who was watching him with a soft smile. “Do you want my help too, or would you prefer Dean’s?” Castiel asked.

“Ew, keep him away from me.” Jo said teasingly. Dean turned around and gave her a dirty look. “I would love some help.”

“Keep it PG.” Meg reminded, and Castiel smiled at how protective she was, even drunk and half-passed out.

Castiel now helped Jo sit up, this time not really caring if Dean was watching since he wouldn’t be really stripping Jo down, and they were like family anyways. He took the braid out of her hair and since she was already wearing spandex shorts and a tank top, he just untied the red scarf around her.

“Thanks.” Jo mumbled, laying down next to Meg as soon as Castiel was done.

“Jo, you crashing here?” Dean asked.

“I don’t really feel like getting up.” Jo admitted.

“That’s fine, Cas is sleeping at my place.”

Both Meg and Jo opened their eyes and looked at them. “Really?”

“Yeah, he can’t go home.”

“You could sleep here.” Meg said, and Castiel knew she was just trying to save him from doing something he didn’t feel comfortable doing, as if Dean was pressuring him or something.

“No, it’s alright. You and Jo seem pretty comfortable in your bed. There’s still a bunch of people here.” Castiel responded.

Meg stared at him, and he silently nodded to tell her he was fine. “Okay, tell Crowley to kick them out now. I’m tired.”

“I will. I’ll text you tomorrow.” Castiel said, he turned to Dean and nodded in the direction of the door for them to leave.

“Cas, come here a sec.” Meg said, and Castiel turned to Dean.

“Go ahead, I’ll be right down.” Castiel said, and Dean turned to leave before saying goodbye to Jo and Meg, and walking out.

Castiel kneeled at Meg’s side so that she could talk to him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Castiel said, noticing Jo was already lightly snoring.

“How was your little date thing with Dean-O?” She asked.

“It was good.” Castiel replied, looking down. _Date thing._

“What happened?” Meg asked, knowingly.

Castiel stayed silent for a moment. “He knows.”

Meg knew immediately what he meant. “No freakin’ way. What happened?”

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. But everything is fine. I feel good.” Castiel whispered, just in case Jo was only partially asleep.

“Okay.” Meg replied softly. Castiel pushed the hair out of her face before standing and waving one last goodbye. He grabbed his backpack and turned off her light. Locking the door just in case, as he walked out.

Dean was standing at the bottom of the staircase, looking around warily at the drunken partiers moving around, and all the couples dry humping on the ground and elsewhere. Castiel walked passed him, moving towards the kitchen because it was likely Crowley was in there.

“You were good with them.” Dean observed.

“Yes well, let’s say I have good experience with drunk people.” Castiel said bitterly, and Dean gave him a confused look.

At the kitchen table with his ‘goons’, they were playing a game of poker and smoking. “Hey there angel.” Crowley greeted, noticing Dean behind him and smiling especially creepily. “Who’s green eyes here?”

Dean just gave Crowley the death glare in response to the petty flirtation, waiting for Castiel to speak. “When you’re done with your poker game you can shut it all down. I’m leaving, there’s a lot of stragglers making out in the other room. If you steal anything or anyone I’ll know.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, we won’t take anything. Or anyone. Although, where’s Meg?” Crowley said, lifting his glass to his lips while his guys laughed at the suggestion. Castiel’s mouth twisted angrily. He stepped forward and took the glass out of his hand, dumping it on the table.

“Actually, I’d prefer you shut it all down now while I’m still here.” Castiel said, with an almost sickly sweet air that was only meant to be threatening. “You’ve already been paid for your services, and there’s just one more for you to complete. So get on with it.”

Crowley gave an irritated look to Castiel before waving his eyes to go to as Castiel asked. “Be careful who you piss off, angel.”

“ _Don’t get your panties in a bunch_.” Castiel commented, turning around to walk away.

“So is green eyes taking you home?” Crowley wondered just as Castiel put his hand on Dean’s back to lead him out. Castiel looked at Dean hesitantly. “Just ignore him.” Dean looked annoyed but nodded.

It took about fifteen minutes for everyone to get out and Crowley to get himself and his guys’ shit packed up. In about twenty, they were gone, and Castiel was finally locking Meg’s front door with a bottle of whisky in his hands.

“I’ve got to say, you’re kind of a badass.” Dean said as they walked towards the impala.

“Why do you say that?” Castiel asked curiously.

“I mean, Crowley is known for being a pretty big drug lord, but you have no problem standing up to him. And the best part is, he’s not about to skin you alive. It’s almost like he respects you.” Dean said.

“We’re kind of like partners I guess. Me and Meg, well, mostly Meg, have brought in a lot of profit from school. If you know anyone who smokes weed or drinks, it’s probably through Meg and me, through Crowley.” Castiel admitted, getting into the passenger side.

“That’s kind of scary, kind of cool.” Dean admitted.

“I suppose so.” Castiel agreed.

They drove in silence, just classic rock playing and the windows down like it was the natural custom when they drove together. Castiel texted Luke saying he could pick up tomorrow morning, and to tell their mother he fell asleep at his friend’s house while studying. It was all working out well since they were going to a later church service tomorrow. Castiel would probably get picked up from Dean’s, run home to change, and then go off to hell.

“So I was thinking, we have this bottle of whiskey. And there’s this field behind my house. And I wouldn’t mind getting super drunk too. Let’s just park my baby and get hammered, then walk back to my house.” Dean said, as if he just solved a mystery.

“Sounds good to me.” Castiel agreed.

And then there they were, on the hood of Dean’s car staring at the sky, sharing the bottle between them. They made small talk mostly, Dean’s car radio was still on and filling up the silence between them. By the time they had consumed a good amount of the contents in the bottle, Castiel could barely walk straight, and both he and Dean were feeling good.

Dean took the keys out of the ignition and they stumbled home in the dark. And it felt surprisingly natural to be bumping into Dean as they walked, both laughing and giggling like young school children. Finally they made it to the unlocked back door, making it inside relatively unscathed.

They ‘quietly’, or what they thought qualified as quietly, made their way upstairs, and when they reached Dean’s room, they began to shed clothes until they were both down to boxers and under shirts. Castiel didn’t even care Dean could see almost every scab and cut he had.

They fell into Dean’s bed, still laughing. But eventually they slowed down and were beginning dozing off. Abnormally close and Dean’s finger’s tracing over every groove and scar on Castiel’s arm. There were no barriers when you were drunk, and neither of them seemed to mind. Castiel found something soothing about it, because even though Dean was gentle, it was still a slight burn he really appreciated.

“What did you mean earlier?” Dean asked, breaking the silence.

“About what?” Castiel asked, looking over at Dean.

“You said that you had lots of essperience with drunk people.” Dean said fumbling over words and turning to look over at Castiel curiously.

Castiel stared at Dean, the moonlight coming through the window illuminating against the barred shadows from his blinds. He wanted to say that he didn’t want to talk about it, knew that even in his drunken stupor that this was the kind of stuff he kept locked away in a box with caution tape on it. But he figured since Dean already knew of his worst habit, he might as well get some more off his chest.

“My mother.” Castiel said simply, looking at the ceiling and the plastic, glow-in the dark stars glued to it. “She has a drinking problem.”

“You take care of her?” Dean asked, words still slurring much like Castiel’s. “When she’s drunk?”

“Someone has to.” Castiel responded, smiling sadly.

“I don’t take care of my dad when he’s drinking.” Dean said, and Castiel noticed the softness in his voice now, the hollowness.

“Why not?” Castiel asked curiously.

Dean swallowed and took a deep breath, and Castiel realized they were entering Dean’s own caution taped territory. Maybe things weren’t exactly perfect for the football star who was the epitome of perfection.

“Why does your mom drink?” Dean asked.

“Probably to make it through the night.” Castiel guessed.

“I think my dad drinks hoping that he _won’t_ make it through the night.” Dean admitted. “When he comes home, all pissed off and angry from work, he opens up a beer after dinner. And my mom’ll tell me and Sammy to go to our rooms. And we know he’s gonna get drunk, and when he’s drunk he ain’t very nice.”

Castiel rolled onto his side. “Dean?”

Dean looked at Castiel. “What?”

“Does your father hit you?” Castiel asked slowly.

Dean inhaled slowly and looked at Castiel with empty eyes. “Not so much anymore. I think I got too old for him to enjoy it. I won’t let’em get Sammy though. But he ain’t home so much anymore.”

Castiel was silent, and it hit him all at once that there was so much more to Dean Winchester than he thought. He had assumed everything about Dean Winchester’s life was fine and perfect. But it was clear that wasn’t the case. At least they shared a common misconception about one another.

“My mom is great though. She loves us and takes care of us. I wish she’d leave him sometimes.” Dean said, and he looked over at Castiel. “If your mom is an alcoholic, does that mean your dad is cool?”

“Quite the opposite actually.” Castiel said, and just thinking about it made his chest hurt. “My mother is a drunk to escape the realities of the bullshit lie we’re living. My father is a jerk who doesn’t love any of us.”

Dean turned on his side to face Castiel now. “That can’t be true. I mean my dad ain’t a role model for dads, but in some, fucked up way, he still loves us.”

Castiel bit his lip and shook his head with reddened eyes. “If you knew the things he’s done, you wouldn’t think that highly of him.”

“What has he done to you?” Dean asked, curious.

“It isn’t so much what he has done, but what he hasn’t done.” Castiel replied, and Dean cocked his head in confusion. Castiel swallowed and thought for a moment. “Let’s just say that there was once a time where I was silently begging for someone to help me, and he knew but had no interest.”

“Was that one time the same time you don’t want to talk about?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded, and felt cool fingertips on his scarred arms once again. “I guess neither of us are as normal as each other thought.”

“Guess not.” Castiel replied.

Dean stared at where his fingers were placed on Castiel’s arms, and Castiel felt his breathing getting heavier. It was like he was being teased, like someone was hanging the drug he was addicted to in front of his face and dangling it there. “Do you ever wish you were dead?” Dean asked suddenly. The question was random at most, but Castiel didn’t flinch at it. He knew it would be coming eventually.

“All the time.” Castiel whispered, placing his hand over Dean’s, the one still tracing over the cuts on his arm. Dean froze, unsure of what the contact mean. Too drunk to pretend he didn’t like the feeling of Castiel’s hand on his, he didn’t fight back. He saw it as a method of comfort, or maybe a warning to stop touching.

“Isn’t killing yourself a sin though?” Dean asked, never breaking eye contract with Castiel. They were both still.

“Do you even believe in God?” Castiel asked, voice strained.

Dean thought for a moment. “I believe there is a God.” Dean said, feeling Castiel press down on Dean’s fingertips, putting pressure on his injured skin. He realized what Castiel was trying to do when he let out a soft little gasp at the pain, but didn’t try to pull away. “But I am not sure he still believes in us.”

Dean pulled his hand out from under Castiel’s in one swift moment, and Castiel sighed angrily, rolling back onto his back. So close to the little bit of pain he was searching for, but not close enough.

“I know you got pissed earlier when I asked you to stop cutting, but I still wish you would.” Dean said, staring at a frustrated Castiel as if nothing weird had just happened at all.

“No.”

“Why not give it a try? Find a better, healthier distraction.” Dean offered.

Castiel looked over at Dean with hopeless eyes. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can.” Dean assured. “There’s gotta be a better way.”

“Dean, I said no.” Castiel said, shutting his eyes.

Dean didn’t say anything, just rolled onto his stomach and reached over for Castiel’s arm, which was resting on Castiel’s stomach. He continued to trace over the scars, because he knew it was soothing. And he didn’t want Castiel to go to bed angry at him. Eventually they lulled themselves to sleep, without any black outs blocking their memories.

There was something forming between them, and it wasn’t the conventional kind of friendship, but it was something.

\-- -

When Castiel woke up the next morning, he didn’t run off like last time. But it was ass o’clock in the morning, and of course stumbling out from where Dean was totally snuggling into his side (in a straight way!) to make it to the toilet in time to yak up all the contents of his stomach, wasn’t that much of an improvement. Fireball never sat well with him.

But then there was someone handing him a water bottle, and Castiel was truly thankful for Sam Winchester’s existence. Wordlessly he patted Castiel on the back and walked out, just as Dean walked into the bathroom and sat down on the floor next to him after washing his face to rid of the zombie make up still left over from the night before.

“What I don’t understand is how you aren’t throwing up. I definitely drink more often than you do.” Castiel said, voice hoarse and used.

“Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear.” Dean said with a sleepy smile. “You were drinking all kinds of shit before that whisky, I wasn’t.” Castiel squinted at him before sticking his face back into the porcelain bowl to continue puking. Dean just rubbed his back and helped him to his feet after giving him a new toothbrush. When Castiel felt like he was no longer going to be sick and his breath wasn’t rank, he followed Dean back to his bed and got in a few more hours of sleep. It was a step up from last time he woke up next to Dean Winchester and ran off soon after.

A few hours later there was a knock at the door, and when Castiel opened his eyes he saw Dean standing in the door way, speaking softly. He began to stir, and Dean shut the door and turned around to see Castiel, with the same sleepy smile he gave him earlier.

“Good morning.” Dean said, slipping on a pair of sweatpants. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” Castiel replied groggily.

“Here.” Dean said, handing Castiel a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt to wear. Dean stood by the door on his phone, waiting for Castiel to dress himself. And if his eyes lifted when Castiel took off his shirt to put on the new one, if his sight trailed over every curve, cut, and scar on his torso, no one but Dean had to know.

“Thank you.” Castiel said, giving a thankful smile at Dean for lending him his clothes.

“No problem. My mom made breakfast.” Dean said, opening up the door and walking through it, waiting for Castiel to follow.

“That’s very kind of her.” Castiel said, silently becoming nervous now.

From what he knew, Mrs. Winchester was a wonderful mother. But he knew nothing of having a parent so caring and loving. Plus, Castiel had now slept at Dean’s twice without meeting his mother. (Or his father, but he got the impression he wasn’t around much).

They walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen, and Castiel inhaled the smell of bacon and pancakes. Sunday breakfast, a tradition that seemed like something the Novak family would partake in before church. But it wasn’t. In the Novak home, they woke up early on Sunday mornings, fended for themselves for breakfast like most days, since Naomi was usually hungover, and then went to Church as if they had had a brilliant homemade breakfast.

“Good Morning boys.” A blonde woman greeted from where she stood in a fuzzy pink bathrobe, scooping pancakes onto Sam’s plate. She grinned at the boys and gestured for them to sit down. Dean stopped at the fridge first, pouring them all glasses of milk.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked as Castiel sat next to him.

“Better. I have a bit of a headache.” Castiel admitted. He glanced around the kitchen, taking in his surroundings.

Everything about the Winchester house was warm. The windows were open and the blinds pulled back, letting in the cool, fall morning air and sunlight. Neutral tones and yellows were everywhere, pictures of their family smiling happily in frames on the walls and mantels. The radio was on, playing some old, soft rock. Mrs. Winchester was by the stove cooking, Dean was sitting next to him. And it was almost as if Castiel could feel himself de-thawing. After years of sitting in a prison-like house, surrounded by icy parents who knew no warmth, Castiel didn’t feel so cold anymore. This house felt like home.

“Here,” Mrs. Winchester said, walking over to the table and placing two plates down in front of Dean and Castiel. She also went back to the cabinet and brought them back aspirins, giving them knowing looks. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” She said, bringing over her own plate and looking at Castiel with a soft smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Winchester. I’m Castiel.” He replied, returning the smile.

“You can call me Mary, sweetheart.” She said. Mary gestured to his plate with her fork. “You should eat if you want to get rid of that headache.” So Castiel did, and the food was delicious. He watched the Winchester family interact with keen interest.

“So how was the party?” Sam asked, glancing at Dean with a smirk. Little brothers always knew who was up to no good.

“It was great, if you must know.” Dean replied, biting into a piece of bacon for good measure. Dean glanced over at Castiel just before Sam continued his questioning.

“You were one of the hosts, right Cas?” Sam asked.

“I suppose so, yes.” Castiel answered.

“He helped throw a wicked party. I mean it was all decked out in cool decorations.” Dean said, nodding at his mother to get his point of amazement out.

“Was everyone really drunk?” Sam asked, taking a drink out of his cup and side-eyeing Castiel.

“Would it be a high school Halloween party if everyone wasn’t?” Dean asked incredulously.

Sam rolled his eyes just as Mary spoke. “At least you two made it home safe, since I know you pledged to be the designated driver.”

“I was, but Jo ended up staying at someone else’s house.” Dean said, cutting up all his pancakes. Castiel was nibbling on his, not feeling very hungry. He was still amazed by how lenient Mary was. Her love for her sons was evident, but she wasn’t too strict. Understanding, more than anything.

“Oh, to be young again.” Mary sighed dramatically, earning laughter from both her children and even a soft chuckle from Castiel.

They small talked for the rest of the morning, and Castiel grew to really admire Mary. She was so caring and gentle, but still opinionated and strong-willed. She was everything his mother was not or pretended to be. And Castiel found himself to be quite envious of Dean’s relationship with his mother. The Winchester brothers were the lucky ones, despite the fact that their father was said to be abusive.

When eleven rolled around about a half-hour after they got up, Castiel received a text from Gabriel saying he was on his way. Church service was at noon, and Castiel was of course not allowed to skip.

“Thank you for the breakfast, Mary. I really appreciate your kindness.” Castiel said sincerely, walking up to Mary as she was putting dishes away.

“Oh, well thank you. I’m glad I got to meet you. You’re always welcome here, Cas.” She said, with her motherly-knowing eyes as if she looked at Castiel and knew that he was just a walking shell of a boy who was empty inside.

Castiel nodded and smiled at her one last time before turning around. Dean was leaning against the doorway, ready to lead him out. Sam walked by, probably heading upstairs to his bedroom.

“You leaving?” He asked, looking curiously between his brother and Castiel.

“Uh, yes.” Castiel replied sheepishly. “Churchly duties and all.”

“Oh. Well, have fun. See you later, Cas.” Sam said, giving one look at Castiel’s covered arm before walking passed them and upstairs.

Castiel had brought down his change of clothes and his cellphone/charger when they came down for breakfast. He saw a text from Gabriel saying he was here, and walked towards the front door. Dean walked with him, and they both stopped at the door to look at each other.

“Let me know when I can get these back to you.” Castiel said, referencing to the borrowed clothes he was wearing.

“Oh, don’t worry about those. I’ll get’em back eventually.” Dean said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly before speaking again. “You gonna be okay?”

“Maybe.” Castiel replied simply.

“Does this make us friends now?” Dean asked.

Castiel smirked. “Maybe.”

Dean’s lips turned upwards just barely, and he nodded. “Alright. I’ll see you around then?”

“I’ll see you.” Castiel agreed, opening the door.

“Oh, wait.” Dean said, placing his hand on Castiel’s arm softly. Castiel stopped in his tracks.

Dean took his phone out of his hand, and Castiel didn’t even try to stop him, just watched curiously until Dean handed him the phone back. “There, now you have my number.”

Castiel huffed out a breath in amusement. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Have fun at church.” Dean said, giving Castiel one last light squeeze of the arm in encouragement, just as Gabriel honked his horn.

“Goodbye, Dean.” Castiel said, opening up the door and walking out with one last wave.

Gabriel and Anna were in the car, interrogating him like bad cops. But Castiel only gave half-assed replies, because there was still something euphoric about Dean Winchester running through his veins, and he was starting to crash from withdrawal.

“So are you and Dean good buddies now?” Anna asked as though she lived off of Castiel’s drama.

“I suppose.” Castiel said, eyes out the window. But there was a little smile that tugged at his lips. He could call someone his friend. And that was not something he ever thought he’d be able to do again.

At least, not after the last time.


	13. Chapter 12: Forbidden Fruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter for all of you wonderful people! Just another warning for some drug use. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to leave them here or contact me at on my blog on tumblr: worthycas

Fall was by far Castiel’s favorite season. The colorful leaves, the smell of pumpkin spice and cinnamon, the autumn chill. And yet, there was still something tragically beautiful about how it fell into winter, how everything slipped into a frozen death.

Winter was bitter and freezing, and most familiar to Castiel.

After the Halloween party, the winter prevented any more extravagant parties. So Castiel’s extracurricular activities became a more common occurrence. It wasn’t surprising for Castiel to get high before school started, and then high right after. Meg, of course, was always down for a good morning toke. It was a good way to start the day, head in the clouds and stress-free.

Especially with the upcoming art contest Tessa had pressured Castiel to enter, he needed to de-stress as much as possible.

“You have the skill for it. You just need to be creative.” Tessa encouraged on the day she had Castiel sign the form.

“That is what I am the worst at.” Castiel admitted, frustrated.

“Remember what I said to you in the beginning of the year? Reach into yourself, find that darkness, and turn it into art. You can do this, Cas.” Tessa said, patting him on the shoulder before walking off to help another student.

Castiel let out a groan and put his forehead on the cool table, thinking to himself that he’d quit the competition.

It had been Meg who gave him the idea one morning while they were sitting in Meg’s new car, lighting up a blunt.

“I just don’t know what to do.” Castiel admitted. “This contest is run through our entire district. That means every high school in this vicinity has students entering. I have no chance.”

“Yes you do. You’re allowed to do whatever you want, as long as it’s “appropriate”. You’ll figure something out.” Meg said, rolling her eyes.

“I think I’ll drop out.” Castiel replied, as though he wasn’t even listening to Meg.

“You will not.” Meg countered. She sighed and bit her lip before speaking. “What inspires you?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “Nothing. That’s my problem.”

“Okay… What are the things you love? Your passions?” Meg asked, trying to help him come to some sort of plan. The competition was the week after New Year’s, and it was already December. Castiel was running out of time.

Castiel shook his head. “Lately, the only thing I’ve been interested in is smoking.”

“What about Dean Winchester?” Meg asked suggestively.

Castiel shoved her a bit and rolled his eyes. “No. And even if he was my muse, do you expect me to make a mural out of him or something? I think the entire school, including Dean, would deep fry me and eat me alive.”

Meg fell into a fit of pot-induced giggles. “Okay, let’s work with drugs then. I have an idea! Let’s get you some huge canvas and a shit ton of paints, and then you can drop some acid and let the psychedelic trip take you on an adventure.”

Castiel’s jaw dropped just as he exhaled smoke. “That actually isn’t a horrible idea. Lots of artists have used drugs in the past to feed their creativity.”

“This weekend, my house. I’ll call Crowley, you get the art supplies.” Meg said excitedly. Castiel’s eyes opened wide.

“Wait, we’re being serious about this?”

“Yeah, you afraid of a little LSD?” Meg teased.

“I suppose not.” Castiel replied, unsure.

“Don’t worry, it will be fine.” Meg promised, smiling at Castiel and taking the smoldering blunt from his fingers. Castiel watched her finish it off, feeling himself ascend from the worries of his own mind.

When Castiel got home that day, after smoking a bowl with Meg, he saw a text from Dean asking what he was doing this weekend. It had been weeks since the Halloween party and their relationship was mainly kept alive through texting. They had pretty much non-verbally agreed to keep their friendship on the down-low, just to avoid any conflict. Every once and a while Castiel would come over for dinner or they’d go for a drive around the town and talk. It was a slow-paced friendship, and Castiel didn’t mind. They were unlikely friends, and it was better this way.

Unable to concentrate his high mind on the keyboard of his phone, Castiel just called Dean instead.

“Hello?” Castiel could hear Dean’s gruff voice answer. Dean no longer had to stay after school since football was over, and sometimes, like now, they’d talk over the phone while doing homework.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel replied, laying in his bed with a bowl of pretzels. Munchies were simultaneously an upside and a downside to smoking.

“What’s up?” Dean asked.

“Just got home. I am eating pretzels.” Castiel said, letting out a little giggle at the end for no good reason.

“Someone’s obviously high.” Dean observed with an air of mild disapproval.

“As always.” Castiel reminded. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting in the school parking lot for Sam. He had some theater meeting, I guess he’s trying out.” Dean said, and Castiel could hear how unenthusiastic Dean was about it.

“You don’t try out for theater, you audition. And that’s wonderful, I’m sure he’ll do brilliantly.” Castiel replied. “Are you unhappy about his decision?”

“No, well, I don’t know. It’s just weird being the school’s football superstar with a kid brother in the drama club.” Dean admitted.

“You should worry less about your reputation and be more supportive. Our theater program is wonderful and in my opinion, it deserves way more respect.” Castiel scolded.

“I am! I’ll go to every one of his damn plays and I’ll beat up anyone who’s talkin’ shit. It’s just… Weird. Even my dad wasn’t a fan to hear about it.” Dean said.

A part of Castiel wished Dean had the same defensive support of their friendship, but he didn’t feel like bringing it up. Their friendship was unorthodox, and it was simpler to be friends secretly. Plus, there was a difference between blindly supporting family and not wanting to risk getting beaten up over a becoming friends with someone. “Well your dad isn’t really a fan about anything.”

“True.” Dean said, sighing into the phone. “Did you get my text?”

“Yes, that’s why I was calling.” Castiel said, matter-o-fact-ly. “Remember that art contest I’m in?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, but that’s not for another couple weeks though?” Dean replied.

“You’re right, it isn’t. But I am planning start my work this weekend.” Castiel said.

“Did you figure out what you’re doing?” Dean wondered.

“Yes, I believe so. Meg suggested it, actually.” Castiel said, knowing Dean wouldn’t approve.

Cue Dean’s groan, “Oh god, what is it?”

“Acid.” Castiel said breathlessly.

“The drug?” Dean asked.

“No, I’m going to pour acid all over myself and call it art.” Castiel said sarcastically. “Yes, the drug.”

“So you’re gonna trip… And then make art?” Dean asked as if he was playing it out in his head.

“Yes.” Castiel answered simply.

“Seems dangerous…” Dean said warily.

“Would you like to come? I’m going to Meg’s Friday after school.” Castiel said.

Dean sighed. “Yeah I’ll go.”

Castiel was shortly taken aback by Dean’s answer. He was just being polite, but Dean said he would come. Not that Castiel would mind him being there, in fact, it would probably be better if he was. But still, Castiel wasn’t expecting his quick agreement. “Okay.” Castiel replied, still a bit surprised.

“Have you taken LSD before?” Dean asked, the concern in his voice very apparent.

“No.”

“Do you know all the risks and stuff?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, not that Dean could see, however. “Yes, Dean.”

“Okay. I mean I won’t mind playing babysitter for you and Meg, but I don’t want you to have a bad trip or anything.” Dean explained.

“I appreciate that. But Meg isn’t tripping. She has a school meeting for her sister Friday and a new job interview on Saturday she doesn’t want to be groggy for. She’ll be high, but I’ll be the only one tripping. Chances are she’ll actually leave.” Castiel said, getting up to pull out his homework.

“Wow, glad to know that I’ll be taking care of you instead of your girlfriend.” Dean scoffed.

“She isn’t my caretaker, and neither are you. I just know it’s good to have a sober person there and I’d trust you before Meg.” Castiel admitted.

It was silent for a few moments, and Castiel could feel the regret coming over him for saying that. It was too open, too personal, to praise Dean over his own “girlfriend”. But then Dean spoke.

“You trust me?” Dean asked, taken aback.

“Yes.” Castiel breathed into the phone, shutting his eyes like he was coming clean about something he had kept inside too long, like a secret he wasn’t supposed to share.

Dean was quiet again for a couple seconds. “Okay.”

“So you’ll come then?” Castiel asked, suddenly nervous that Dean would be weirded out by what Castiel had said.

“Of course.” Dean said. “Make sure you aren’t doing anything Saturday. Can you sleep at Meg’s?”

“I can. My father’s birthday is this weekend so my parents are going on a church retreat. My therapy appointment is next weekend, so I’ll be open Saturday.” Castiel replied, working it out in his head.

“Good. Don’t forget the art stuff.” Dean said, painfully trying to make a joke after the tension filled moment that just happened.

Castiel, high and now oblivious to any awkwardness, laughed. “I won’t.”

“Alright, chuckles. I’ll see you Friday then.” Dean said, and Castiel could hear his smile.

“Goodbye Dean.”

“Bye Cas.”

The weekend eventually came after a long, tiring week, and Castiel was buzzing with excitement. And when Friday came and he was sitting in Meg’s car on their way back to her house after stopping at Castiel’s to pick up his things and tell his siblings he wouldn’t be home, he was giddy as hell. Already slightly high, with art supplies and a giant canvas almost his size, as well as his own pillows and blankets, he was ready.

Crowley stopped by at four to drop off the acid.

“This isn’t too high of a dose, right?” Meg asked, Castiel standing next to her as Crowley showed the little paper.

“Of course not. It’s enough for a first timer.” Crowley said, accepting the money Castiel handed him. “Have fun tripping.” He said with a wink, before turning to leave.

Castiel reached for the paper, but Meg grabbed his hand and shook her head. “Wait for Dean. We need to set up first and you should eat something.”

Dean came at around four-thirty. Meg let him in just as Castiel was eating some Mac ‘n Cheese after they had just finished setting up the canvas, tarp, and paints. “Meg.” He said stiffly.

“Dean.” She replied. She pointed at the new black-eye Dean had. “Nice shiner.” Dean just gave her a dirty look.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel greeted, just as Dean walked by and picked up a noodle off of Castiel’s plate. Castiel squinted at him, noticing the bruise but not saying anything.

“Hey. Tripping yet?” Dean asked.

“Not yet, Meg made me eat first.” Castiel said.

“Just looking out for you, babe.” Meg called. “You can take it now, it’ll take a while to kick in. Remember what I said?” Meg asked.

“Under the tongue.” Castiel replied, putting his plate in the sink. He took the tab of paper and looked up at Dean. Dean nodded, and Castiel put the paper under his tongue.

It took about ten minutes to dissolve. Ten minutes he sat, watching Dean set his own bag down in the living room and admire the art setup Castiel had going. He even brought an Ihome to play music.

Meg was getting ready to go to a parent-teacher conference for her little sister, who was currently still at the school. Never mind that Meg wasn’t her mom, or even her legal guardian. But after so many times of Ruby getting in trouble and Meg being there to get her out of it, the principle stopped asking for their parents and just spoke to Meg instead.

“What did she do?” Dean asked, watching Meg put her hair up in the mirror. He was fumbling with his IPod, trying to get music on. Castiel sat on the ground, staring at the canvas, trying to come up with something.

“My sister? She punched a kid for grabbing her ass.” Meg replied.

“So he deserved it. Why is she in so much trouble then?” Dean asked. Meg was all done up in a professional looking skirt and everything, and she looked nothing like her usual self.

“She broke his jaw, and then stabbed him with a pencil.” Meg said, and Dean nodded, realizing then that he was slightly terrified of Ruby Masters.

“I think Sam told me about that, actually.” Dean said, laughing. “Said the kid had it coming.”

“Oh he did, but Ruby still is in big trouble so I gotta convince the school board to not expel her.” Meg said.

Dean and Meg made small talk for awhile, and then they heard the smallest, noise coming from Castiel, who was still sitting on the ground.

“Guys.” Castiel whispered in awe. “Are you seeing this?” He asked, and Meg gave an amused smile at Dean.

“No honey, that’s just you.” Meg said, walking over to him and kissing him on the forehead. “I’ll be back later, okay? Don’t trip too hard without me.” She winked.

Meg walked over to Dean. “Take care of him, call me if you need something or he’s tweaking. I’ll be gone until late, I have this meeting for Ruby and then I’m working.”

“He’ll be fine, Meg.” Dean assured.

“Make sure he starts painting. You know how people act when they’re tripping, be gentle with him. I’m trusting you Dean, don’t fuck it up.” Meg said, voice hard and stern.

“I’ll take care of him.” Dean promised.

Meg gave him one last glare. “You’re sleeping here, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean replied.

“Good, the dosage is low, it’ll only last about six or seven hours. Make sure he sleeps after, and sleep near him, he gets nightmares and I don’t know how that’ll react with the acid. Make sure he knows he’s okay. Make him food if he’s hungry. If he has a bad trip-” Meg was rambling, but Dean interrupted her.

“Jesus Christ, you sound like a worried mother. I know how to take care of him. See you later, Meg.” Dean said, ushering her towards the door. She waved goodbye to Castiel one last time before leaving.

It was obvious Castiel was starting to see the effects of LSD. He was just staring at his hands and around him, seeing the entire color spectrum flashing around him. Tripping wasn’t really hallucinating, just seeing things differently. And that’s what Castiel was doing. Dean just stood and watched him make weird faces for a few minutes before going to sit down next to him. Forty-Five minutes in, Castiel was in another world.

“Whoa.” Castiel said in awe, when Dean sat beside him. “Do you know how many freckles you have?”

Dean laughed loudly at that. “No, but I know I have a lot.”

Castiel reached forward, no hesitation, no self-doubt. He let his fingers touch Dean’s face, and Dean didn’t mind. “Your eyes are like forests.” He whispered, and Dean found the spacy-ness in his words to also be amusing.

“Don’t you want to start painting?” Dean asked, handing Castiel a paintbrush. Castiel looked at the paintbrush like it were solid gold, and nodded quickly. Dean helped him stand, showed him all the paints to refresh his tripping memory. Castiel only told him to put on his music before he started dipping a paintbrush in the paint. Dean took Castiel’s phone from him and shuffled the playlist, lots of instrumental with soulful lyrics. It was beautiful music, not really Dean’s taste, but he didn’t mind. It actually helped him focus.

Finals were in a couple weeks. And despite being a senior, he needed to start studying or else no college would ever accept him, despite his talent in playing football. So with some soft music playing, Castiel humming only feet away from him, and a couple textbooks, he was able to become engrossed in his studies.

Almost an hour later, Castiel was moving with a passion, as if he had found his muse. Dean found himself watching, watching Castiel move back and forth between paint and canvas, combining colors and creating something truly beautiful.

“What are you painting?” Dean asked, beginning to get bored from studying.

Castiel stopped in his tracks, looking over at Dean and setting down his paints. He almost ran to where Dean was sprawled on the couch, kneeling beside him and getting closer than necessary. Dean could see how blown Castiel’s pupils were.

“An angel.” Castiel whispered, as if it were the answer to the meaning of life.

“Oh, that sounds really cool.” Dean said, eyes shifting over at the paint-filled canvas.

“Yes. I’m painting what angels really look like. Their true forms.” Castiel replied, using too many hand gestures and talking very passionately. _He’s adorable_ , Dean thought, instantly repressing the thought and pretending it never surfaced.

Before Dean could further questioning, Castiel was up and back by the canvas, working feverishly.

Dean spent a long time going back and forth between being on his phone and watching Castiel work. He stopped going back and forth when Castiel complained about being too hot, and all of a sudden he was shirtless. Dean tried not to blush, he really did.

Dean was happy to see that Castiel’s scars were healing. There were some fresh cuts, not as many as he had seen on Halloween. He checked up with Castiel often, making sure he was taking care of them. Convincing him to stop had proven impossible, but he could convince him not to neglect them.

For a while the canvas looked like an array of mismatched colors, but as the hours went by, Dean could see them coming together to create a humanoid creature. The creature was light and colorful, whirls of it creating something that resembled human anatomy. And then there were the huge, blackened wings on the back that somehow remained iridescent, which Castiel worked hard to put fine detail on. Dean was breathless, watching Castiel create this drug-induced masterpiece.

After nearly four hours of straight, aggressive painting (and Dean taking a small nap), Castiel finally dropped his paintbrush and took a step back, wiping his sweaty palms on his shirt that he had put back on earlier. Admiring the finished product, Dean got up to go check it out.

“It’s awesome, Cas.” Dean said, completely amazed by the psychedelic beauty before him. The angel was magical, the painting was breathtaking. An angel had its arms open, its eyes were the brightest blue light, and Dean felt like it was just staring into his soul. For as colorful as it was, there was something still haunting about it, something ominous about the black wings and the stern look the angel carried. The dense and colorful galaxy surrounding it was an amazing background.

Cas nodded slowly, fingers lifting to trace over the drying paint. He let out a shaky breath, and then all at once there was a flood of emotion. Dean looked over in confusion at the gasp, and caught Castiel as he fell to his knees.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, still kneeling beside him with an arm around Castiel’s shoulders to keep him upright. Castiel turned to give Dean a terrified look.

“How did I make that?” Castiel said, still spacing out. Dean suppressed his laughter at Castiel’s silliness.

“It was all in your head.” Dean said, tapping on Castiel’s temple. Castiel’s face was showing true terror at this point.

“It was.” Castiel gasped, and Dean didn’t know if he should feel bad or laugh, knowing it was just the drugs making him emotional.

“Where did you find your inspiration?” Dean asked after a few minutes. He knew that Castiel had difficulty finding a muse.

“I don’t know.” Castiel admitted, he turned to look back at Dean. “I think… I think I saw something.”

“What did you see?” Dean asked, curious of Castiel’s visuals while tripping.

“I think I saw… Myself.” Castiel said, and his face was still contorted in horror and utter shock.

“That you, Cas?” Dean asked, looking up at the painting with a faint smile. “Did you paint _your_ true form?”

“ _I don’t know_.” Castiel’s words were strained. Dean’s amazement turned to worry as he watched Castiel’s eyes continue widen in horror. Castiel was choking on his words, searching for his voice. He started to look around, at the painting, his hands, and then Dean, who was so close to him, before speaking again. “I know what it is.”

“What?” Dean asked.

“It’s the Angel of Death.”

There was silence then, mostly because Castiel was exasperated by his own words.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, confused. “Like, the Grim Reaper?”

“It isn’t a concept taught in the Catholic religion. But… There is some religious scripture and historical background on an Angel of Death. Some would say it is actually the Horseman of Death, others would argue the Grim Reaper.” Castiel said, still in utter shock. “Different concepts, but both are creatures that represent death in some way, shape, or form.”

“Well… However morbid, it’s still beautiful.” Dean blurted out. Castiel’s head turned to look at Dean, eyebrows furrowing.

Castiel shook his head. “It’s ugly. Awful. Absolutely vile and blasphemous.”

“No, no. It’s not, Cas.” Dean countered. “This creature you just painted, an Angel of Death… Some dark interpretation of yourself…Whatever it is… It’s amazing.” Dean breathed, looking back at Castiel, whose lips were starting to turn up softly, eyes flickering back to his painting.

“Do you really think that?” Castiel asked. “That it’s… Beautiful?”

Dean stared at Castiel, watched his blown pupils trail over his creation like he was beginning to warm up to it. When Castiel was sober, he was stoic. Tense and tightly wound like a wind-up toy.  When he was drunk he somehow remained level-headed, but carried an air of reckless freedom about him. When he was high, he was just dopey. Loud and rambunctious, his sense of humor became even fuller of sarcasm and wit.  And as he had recently proven, when he was tripping, he was both completely peaceful and blithe, or a nervous and doubtful train wreck. All of these versions that Dean had witnessed Castiel come in and out of, and somehow Castiel was able to take all of them and create an absolutely stunning painting. So yes, Dean thought this representation of all of Castiel combined, was beautiful. Just how deep down, he thought each separate part of him held beauty.

“Yes. You’ll win, I guarantee it.” Dean replied simply, not taking his eyes off of Castiel.

Castiel looked over at Dean, and then back down at his hands as his cheeks turned a light pink shade. Castiel’s eyes lifted back up to Dean’s, and the tone of this conversation suddenly changed. Castiel reached up, finger tracing lightly over the bruise blossoming on Dean’s eye. “Your father?”

Dean slowly nodded. Castiel shook his head, getting upset again. “In some twisted way, I may have painted a messed up portrait of myself tonight, but _you_ are artwork, Dean Winchester. And your father did not have the right to deface a piece of art.”

There were no words spoken for a few moments, as Castiel’s paint-stained finger gently circled the bruise on Dean’s cheek and brow-bone. Dean was simply left speechless. There was a line that they both had mutually drawn when they finally were starting to become friends. They never spoke of it, it was just a subconscious agreement of the do’s and don’t’s of their relationship. Like keeping it a secret, and ignoring the obvious sexual tension between them. But the LSD Castiel was currently tripping on seemed to have no memory of this line, as he and Dean were sitting extremely close, his hand almost caressing Dean’s face.

And as long as Castiel had the excuse of _the_ _acid made me do it_ , Dean would let him without putting up a fight. It was just some platonic touching, anyways.

Finally Castiel pulled away from Dean, smiling at him one last time before beginning to clean up after himself. A good part of tripping was that it could make you very productive, like you couldn’t stop moving. So Castiel began getting brushes together and closing paints.

Dean managed to get back on two feet, letting Castiel aggressively clean and turning to go get a snack. He hadn’t really eaten dinner, after all. The last couple of hours had gone rather smoothly, and knowing that Castiel had finished and created an amazing painting, was enough to put Dean in a better mood.

But when he walked back into the living room after finishing the leftover Mac n’ cheese, he knew his improved mood was for nothing. He had managed to pull Castiel out of a potential bad trip when he began to doubt his painting, but this time it was a lot worse.

Castiel was in the corner, head in his hands. And Dean could see that this is exactly what he had feared from the get-go; Castiel had slipped into a bad trip.

“Cas?” Dean asked, running to where Castiel was laying. “Hey, are you alright?”

Dean managed to grab Castiel’s attention, but he was shaking, crying, beginning to scream nonsense.

“I thought I saw someone… I-It’s him…He’s coming for me. He’s gonna get me again. He’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna take it all away, my g-grace.” Castiel was mumbling, tears spilling down his cheeks. Dean kneeled in front of him, putting his hands on his shoulders.

“You’re fine, Cas. Listen to me, this isn’t real. There was no shadow, he’s not coming for you.” Dean assured, not even knowing who this _he_ was.

“Get away!” Castiel screamed, and Dean was immediately standing. Just the way Castiel had screamed made his blood run cold. Castiel’s eyes were moving around the room at lightning speed as if he were waiting for someone to come at him.

“Cas?” Dean asked softly, kneeling again.

“He’s coming for me. I know he his. I’ve been so bad and he’ll want to try to make me good again…” Castiel mumbled, speaking quickly as he began scratching at his scarred wrists.

Dean was extremely bothered by how hard Castiel was shaking, and how he was so wrapped up in fear that he couldn’t even tell what was real anymore. Dean was at a loss for words, unsure of what to do. So in desperation, he started moving as quickly as possible. He got all the blankets and pillows upstairs onto Meg’s bed, even brought up the IHome. He turned on Castiel’s favorite song out of the playlist, and then went to get Castiel.

Getting Castiel to come with him was a process. He had to coax Castiel into allowing Dean to touch him. He had to force Castiel to look him in the eyes to know that Dean was Dean, not whoever Castiel was obviously terrified of at the moment. Their eyes were locked for several moments, Dean’s fingers under Castiel’s chin so that he could focus and realize that no, Dean wasn’t going to hurt him. Once Castiel was helped to his feet, Dean walked with him upstairs. Castiel was still trembling, looking around absolutely petrified, and mumbling about a false angel who was coming for him again. Dean couldn’t help but feel like Castiel wasn’t just imagining the bad trip, but reliving a bad experience.

He got Castiel to sit down on the fortress of pillows, tried to get him to match his breathing, trying treat it like an anxiety attack. But Castiel was locked in a trip that wasn’t forgiving. It was like Dean wasn’t even speaking to Castiel Novak, but some removed and distant part of him that Castiel had tried to bury too many times.

Finally sitting “safely” on the bed, Castiel wept. Dean didn’t know what else to do. “Cas, what do you need?” He asked, trying to get Castiel to look at him again. But Castiel couldn’t even look him in the eyes anymore. Dean was getting desperate, becoming terrified at what this was doing to Castiel. “Please, please Cas. What do you need? What do you need me to do?”

Castiel lifted a pointed hand towards the lights, and Dean immediately got up and flipped the switch. He plugged in the fairy lights Meg had hanging around her room, and Castiel stared at them in wonder, tears finally letting up. The window’s curtains were open, and Castiel could see snow falling. He could feel himself calming down, trying to remind himself none of this was real. But he still shook, he was feeling so empty and anxious. The LSD was finally wearing off, but he still felt so awful.

“Cas?” Dean asked hopelessly, kneeling beside the bed frame and placing his hands on Castiel’s knees. “I know you’re scared, I’m scared too. But _what do you need_?” Castiel felt guilt tug at him for making Dean feel so hopeless.

“Just… Lay with me.” Castiel whispered hopelessly, but Dean nodded.

Castiel moved over to the other side of the bed, making room for Dean to lay beside him. They were both laying on their backs, not sure where to go from there. Castiel stared at the ceiling, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, and somehow hallow inside. He was fighting the urge to cry again, hating how much he cried and how weak it made him feel.

“Hey,” Dean whispered, turning onto his side and propping his head up. “Cas, what is it?”

“I feel like I’m going to float away.” Castiel whimpered, shutting his eyes.

“You aren’t, you’re here right now.” Dean replied, placing a hand over one of Castiel’s forearms. There was some blood on Castiel’s shirt, from scratching up scabs. Luckily they were all a couple days old, so not too much bleeding would occur.

“I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore.” Castiel said distantly. “I feel like bad things are happening but…” Castiel couldn’t finish his sentence, because none of it made sense. There was no way to efficiently describe how he was feeling and what he was or was not seeing.

“You’re real. You’re lying in Meg’s bed. That’s real. I’m lying beside you. That’s real. It’s snowing, that’s real.” Dean gently put some pressure on Castiel’s arm, making him gasp. “That pain? That’s real. Everything else you’re seeing, everything you’re hearing or thinking or imagining, none of it’s real.”

Castiel nodded, pressing the heel of his palm into his eyes in attempt to stop the tears. But he couldn’t stop crying, this emptiness and surrealistic feeling washing over him was like boiling water on his skin. “I don’t know what to do.”

Dean thought for a moment, swallowed some of his pride and knew what he could do. “Lay on your side. No, other way.” Dean ordered in a soft voice, having Castiel lay on his side so that his back was to Dean. “No one can ever know we’re about to do this.” Dean warned sternly.

Castiel was shaking from the authority in his voice, but as soon as he felt Dean move closer and closer to him, until his back was pressed against Dean’s stomach, he was stiff as a board in shock. Dean carefully put his arm around Castiel’s waist, gentle of the broken skin there. He held Castiel against his chest, hoping that the touch would help soothe him. “Relax, Cas.”

And Castiel tried to, feeling Dean’s breath on his neck and the way his chest moved in and out as he breathed. Castiel had never been this close to someone before, and it was so foreign to him. And yet, he liked the warmth he was surrounded in. Liked the closeness, the lighting, even the music playing in the background, and the way Dean had put aside all his personal do’s and don’ts for the sake of Castiel’s wellbeing. He felt safe in Dean’s arms. And he was finally able to get control over his racing mind. His body still shook, but the tears had stopped and he felt within reality again.

“Better?” Dean asked after a while, his voice was lower now. And all Castiel could do was nod, couldn’t even speak.

They laid like that for who knows how long, the same soft-instrumental album playing on repeat. Dean, who was only known as a hard-rock fan, even started to become familiar with the melody, and hummed along to it, still pressed against Castiel.

“I’m sorry your father hits you.” Castiel said after a while. He was no longer trembling, able to control his thoughts again.

Dean inhaled slowly at the blunt statement, before replying as if it wasn’t extremely random. “You don’t have to apologize for something that’s not your fault.”

“But I will anyways. Someone has to. Someone has to let you know it isn’t _your_ fault.” Castiel said slowly.

“It is my fault.” Dean breathed. Castiel immediately moved to turn on his other side, still remaining up close against Dean but now facing him. Dean’s arms were up in the air, not sure if it was acceptable to lay them back on Castiel.

“No it is not.” Castiel said sternly. “No matter what you do, a child never deserves a black eye as punishment.”

“Do you think what happened to you is your fault?” Dean asked, not able to meet Castiel in the eyes anymore. He gently put his arms down, but Castiel was getting heated realizing Dean blamed himself for his father’s abuse, that he barely noticed how he was once again enclosed by Dean’s arms.

“What happened to me is different than this.” Castiel replied, averting his eyes. They were no longer as dilated, and he was very obviously coming down from his trip.

“But even if you did nothing wrong, you feel guilty.” Dean called him out.

“Dean, we’re not talking about thi-“

“Why not?” Dean interrupted. “You just had a bad trip where you were screaming about someone coming to get you, trying to kill you. Did that have anything to do with what happened to you?”

There was a long period of silence and hesitation before Castiel reluctantly nodded.

“Cas, we need to talk about it eventually.” Dean said, looking down.

“No.” Castiel swore, and Dean shook his head.

“It’s killing you, and you’re letting it.” Dean reprimanded.

“So be it.”

“No. That’s not how this works.” Dean argued.

“It’s my choice.” Castiel insisted.

“Cas, I can’t continue to watch you rot away because you’re too scared to talk about your past. I know that whatever it is, it goes beyond some abusive parenting or self-esteem issue. You’re carrying shit with you that’s gonna bury you.”

“I’ll carry it to the grave.” Castiel said quietly.

“Why? Why does it mean so much to you to stay silent?” Dean asked.

Castiel thought for a moment. “If I talk about it, if I have to relive… That… I wouldn’t make it to the end of the night.”

“It’s that bad?” Dean wondered, and Castiel nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Castiel said.

“I know, but someone once told me that someone has to let you know it isn’t your fault.” Dean said, repeating Castiel’s earlier words.

“But in my case, it is actually my fault.” Castiel said, voice hoarse. “That’s the problem.”

“I’m ready to bet it isn’t.” Dean said.

“This is different than being a child and taking the blame for their parent who abuses them. This is me having done something I knew I shouldn’t have, and having had to face the repercussions.” Castiel bit, growing frustrated.

“What, did you go to prison or something?” Dean asked.

Castiel huffed out a pathetic laugh and shook his head. “No.”

“Cas, please. You can tell me. I wouldn’t tell a soul. Especially with the fact that we were just spooning, you have some good blackmail now, even if you thought I would.” Dean said, trying find an ounce of hilarity.

Castiel returned with a cynical bout of laughter, shaking his head in self-disgust.

“What?” Dean asked.

Castiel took a deep breath. “You are not going to look at me the same anymore if I tell you.”

“Cas, you’re probably one of my closest friends. Of course I will.” Dean assured.

“No, none of that matters. Because you know what, Dean?”

“What?” Dean asked, feeling his stomach lurk at the possibility of finding out what happened to his friend.

“This, right here.” Castiel said, gesturing to him and Dean. “Is what I did wrong.”

Dean became deeply confused. “What do you mean?”

Castiel was trying to breathe through tears. His chest hadn’t felt this heavy in years. And he could see flashbacks in his head, flashbacks of when this whole mess started.

“When you hear the Novak name, what do you think of?” Castiel asked. Dean’s head turned in confusion.

“Uh, well your family is super rich and you and your brothers and sister are geniuses. You guys are all named after angels, ‘cause your family is super Catholic and involved with the church and-“ Dean stopped, as if he was having an epiphany. “Wait a second.”

Castiel nodded, like he was helping Dean through the thought process. He was feeling like he couldn’t even speak anymore, he was trying so hard not to break.

“This, right here?” Dean asked, gesturing between himself and Castiel. “You meant the way we were laying and stuff.”

Castiel began looking embarrassed and ashamed. Every time he thought about his situation he felt filthy.

“And stuff, meaning… Gay stuff.” Dean said, and Castiel felt instant regret at allowing Dean to dig into all this when he heard how uncomfortable Dean sounded. “Cas, are you…”

“No. I have a girlfriend.” Castiel said, despite the fact that it wasn’t entirely true. He turned on his back and looked at the ceiling with the blandest voice ever. He was disconnecting, exhausted mentally. Dean was no longer pressed up against him.

“I’m not.” Dean said, as if to clarify the spooning session wasn’t mean to be taken in a non-straight way.

“I know.” Castiel replied, shutting his eyes.

There was silence for a while after that, and Castiel hoped he would die right there, he hated himself and this whole situation so much.

“So… Did your family think you were… Ya’ know?” Dean asked, still trying to peace it all together.

Castiel felt so embarrassed and disgusted. All these weeks that had passed, and Castiel was starting to come to terms with who he was, who he had suppressed all these years. He had thought, stupidly, that _maybe,_ Dean was a little more flexible on the sexuality spectrum. He didn’t have a problem with Castiel when he was drunk or high and flirty. He didn’t have a problem being especially gentle with Castiel, holding him or lying beside him. Castiel thought he could feel the sexual tension between them sometimes, And yet, Dean was proving to be just as hateful and prejudiced as everyone else in his life.

“What do you think?” Castiel asked bitterly, eyes still shut and mind shutting down.

Dean was still laying on his side, staring at Castiel, determined to get more answers. “So, they punished you for that?”

Castiel hesitated, opening his eyes and sitting up. He looked over at Dean and chewed on his lip, trying to get a hold of himself.

“Cas?” Dean asked, seeing how bothered he was by all of this.

“ _Yes_.” Castiel breathed out and opened his watery, bloodshot eyes to see Dean staring at him in shock.

Dean’s mouth open and closed before he stuttered out more words. “What does that mean?” 

“My punishment was severe enough to damage me this much. And that is all I can say.” Castiel said, shutting his eyes again.

Dean was quiet for a while. “Okay.”

“I want you to know that I regret this entire conversation and evening.” Castiel said bluntly, stuttering from anxiousness. He rolled onto his side to face away from Dean.

“Don’t say that.” Dean almost begged. He gently placed his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and got him to lay over onto his back.

“I just thought I should be truthful.” Castiel admitted. “I just wish I was too high or drunk to function right now. So I’m glad this proved that talking about this did nothing to help.”

“There’s a lot more to your story.” Dean stated.

“Of course there fucking is.” Castiel snapped.

Dean sighed. “You’re upset.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m going to sleep now, so you might want to get out of the bed so it’s not gay or anything.” Castiel mumbled.

“Whoa, where did that come from?” Dean asked, taken aback by Castiel’s sudden coldness.

“Dean, somehow you manage to get me to tell you that when I was younger my parents thought I was gay so they _punished_ me, and your first instinct is to make sure I’m not actually gay, and then to make it explicitly clear that you aren’t. You are not an idiot, you know what kind of punishments are offered in that area, and you know the trauma and horror those punishments can cause. Use your brain and try to understand why that was incredibly unhelpful. ” Castiel said, voice as sharp as a razor blade.

“Cas, that’s not… That’s not how I meant it.” Dean said, sounding hurt but apologetic.

“It doesn’t matter.” Castiel mumbled, turning to bury his face into his pillow.

“Cas, c’mon.” Dean nearly begged.

“Goodnight Dean.” Castiel ignored him.

“Listen,” Dean said, yet again gently forcing Castiel to lay on his back so he’d listen to Dean. “None of that shit matters, okay? I’m sorry if I hurt you, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re my friend. And our friendship isn’t exactly… Normal. We’ve both been through some shit, even if I don’t know the exact extent of yours. But I want to help you. Gay, straight, or none of the above, it doesn’t matter. Now, can we be friends again, or do you still think I’m a homophobic dick-bag?”

Castiel remained quiet for a moment before giving up and sighing. “Fine, I forgive you. But only because you’re the first friend I’ve had in years and you actually make me want to _not_ slit my wrists one hundred percent of the time, you _overcompensating_ dick bag.”

Dean smiled down at Castiel and they both let out a little laugh. “Good. Now roll over so I can bro-spoon the fuck out of you so you can stop shaking so hard.”

“Bro-spoon?” Castiel questioned.

“Yeah, like spooning for bros. Friendship spooning. Straight-cuddling.” Dean said, as if the answer was obvious.

“Wow, I think _now_ I might actually hate you and have to rethink this friendship.” Castiel said, with very little emotion. Dean laughed as Castiel rolled over, and laid down next to him.

“Hey, come on now.” Dean said, still laughing.

“So with your logic, if two men have sex but say no-homo after, did they really have sex?” Castiel asked, chuckling a bit.

Dean threw his arm around Castiel and continued to laugh. “Fuck off, Cas.”

Castiel let himself be enveloped by Dean’s arms, and tried not to wish it wasn’t just a friendly and considerate notion.

They talked a bit after that, but seven hours into Castiel’s trip, he was pretty much normal again. Now he was just exhausted. On the verge of sleep and still calmed by Dean beside him, neither of them heard Meg come home.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” Meg said, standing in front of the bed and staring at Dean and Castiel in mock-anger.

Dean was instantly three feet away from Castiel, terrified and blubbering in explanation. Castiel just gave Meg a dirty look and tried to go back to sleep.

“It’s not like that, Meg.” Dean proclaimed. Meg simply put a finger up to tell him to shut up.

“Cas, I get home after a long day at work and you don’t even have the courtesy to greet me at the door with a long detailed explanation of how your ‘trip’ was, and the absolutely fucking amazing painting you made? Are we even together?” Meg asked, and Castiel just rolled onto his back to smile smugly.

“My ‘trip’ was lovely, dear. The painting turned out great. Can I go back to sleep now?” Castiel asked.

“I don’t know, do you want to lay with me or Dean?” Meg asked, still playing the role of an upset girlfriend, but Castiel knew Meg didn’t give one singular fuck what Cas and Dean were doing. In fact, she fully supported it.

“Preferably both.” Castiel admitted, and Castiel could see Dean’s eyes nearly fall out of his skull.

“Only the best for you, dear.” Meg said, taking the clip out of her hair and slipping out of her skirt and top into normal underwear and a baggy t-shirt. Dean just sat down on the bed next to Castiel, looking confused.

“Meg and I aren’t really serious about our relationship.” Castiel admitted.

“I can see that now.” Dean said, still stunned.

“We use each other for drug purposes and to avoid the crippling tendrils of loneliness.” Meg said over-enthusiastically, lifting some of the covers and climbing under them. Castiel immediately laid behind her, closing his eyes.

“You gonna join the cuddle train or what, Winchester?” Meg asked. “I promise I won’t tell on you. Scout’s honor.” Meg said, sticking her right hand in the air.

“Uh…” Was all Dean said.

“Chill, I know you’re not trying to stick your dick in him or have him stick his in you. Cuddling is great, friends do it all the time. Obviously you guys were having a blast earlier. So swallow your fragile, heterosexual pride and let’s all get along.” Meg said, already trailing towards sleep.

Dean slowly, still in awe, laid back down on side and inched his way until he was up against Castiel’s back again.

“This is so strange.” Dean admitted.

“Wait until we break out the twelve inch dildos and whipped cream.” Meg teased. And upon hearing Dean’s audible surprise, she laughed and shook her head. “I’m fuckin’ with ya’ Winchester. This is as adventurous as it’s gonna get. So how was your night, Cas?”

“It was fine. My painting turned out great.” Castiel said, yawning, on the verge of sleep.

“Did you enjoy the LSD?” Meg asked.

“Let’s just say it was a one night stand.” Castiel said, feeling Dean’s arms tighten around him. And Meg pressed against his chest even more. He was the center of a very comfortable spooning sandwich.

“Wasn’t too great, huh?” Meg said knowingly.

“Nope. It was good at some points, maybe a five out of ten.” Castiel replied.

“Did Dean take care of you?” Meg asked.

“Yeah, Dean’s great.” Castiel said lazily, words trailing off at the end as he fell asleep.

“Good, good.” Meg replied, dozing off as well.

Dean was awake just a little bit longer, his thoughts running rampant. He had survived a night with Castiel on LSD, had gotten Castiel to open up to him more. He felt good, and also bad. And like there was something missing.

It had felt so wrong to tell Castiel he was straight. He had never had to out-rightly say he was straight. Everyone just assumed. But in a panic, he had said it to Castiel, and it tasted like a lie from the moment it was on the tip of his tongue and out his mouth.

There was something so broken and twisted about Castiel, but God, did he make Dean question everything he had ever known. This must have been how Eve felt when the serpent told her about the forbidden fruit.

This must be how it felt to want to give everything up for something you weren’t allowed to have.


	14. Chapter 13: Destroyed Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is pretty short, the next will be longer. Warnings for past mentions of suicide.

“Let’s talk about Alfie.”

It felt like Castiel’s heart had instantly stopped beating. Like time had stopped, like Castiel’s vison went black. Charlie was sitting across from him, all red hair and goofy smiles, acting like this was just a casual question. After a pause of silence, she looked at him worriedly as he choked on his own air.

“How do you know that name?” Castiel whispered. “I’ve never mentioned him before.”

“Your brother mentioned his name the first time we spoke over the phone.” Charlie replied softly.

“What did Michael say?” Castiel asked sharply.

“I believe his words were “after Alfie, he wasn’t the same”.” She said almost comically.

Castiel swallowed, nodding slowly and biting his lip. “I see.”

“So, who was he? Was he an ex or something? Ex-friend, _ex-boyfriend_?” Charlie asked, trying to be delicate but also determined to get somewhere today with Castiel, the one famous for not opening up.

“He’s dead.” Castiel said suddenly, stone cold and unforgiving. Charlie sat up immediately, noticing the intensity of his unspoken secrets. Her eyes were wide with regret for how lightly she approached this topic.

“What happened?” Charlie asked in a gentle whisper. She expected something raw and harsh, but had not expected this.

Castiel sighed, eyes already burning and his wrists itching. “He killed himself nearly seven months ago.”

Charlie took a deep breath. “Who was he?”

“My friend.” Castiel replied, voice broken and hoarse, eyes watering and spilling over. “He was my friend, and he hung himself in his bedroom. And it was all my fault.”

“Hey now,” Charlie stood up from her beanbag and kneeled in front of Castiel. She took his hands so that he’d let the tears fall without wiping them away in vain attempts to pretend he was fine. “I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

“I broke a promise that ruined _everything_. I broke his trust, I turned my back on him when he needed me most, and for that, I am responsible for his death.” Casual spoke slowly, fighting through the tears.

“Listen to me. Unless you were the one that tied the rope and handed it to him, you are not responsible for him passing.” Charlie said, but Castiel shook his head rapidly.

“You don’t understand.” Castiel said harshly, pulling himself away from Charlie and shutting his eyes.

There was a lapse in discussion while they both gathered themselves before Charlie spoke again. “What was the promise you broke?”

Castiel just gave Charlie an absent look and remained silent. Charlie huffed and sunk back into her own beanbag. “We’re not here to just talk about how your day was Castiel. Eventually we have to move forward and discuss even the darkest topics. It’s the only way you will ever get better.”

It was tense for a few moment as Castiel fought himself before turning to Charlie with a haunting gaze of having given up. “I destroyed everything, and I will destroy everything again. Somethings are stones better left unturned.”

Charlie stared back at Castiel, blinking and then looking down sadly. “I don’t believe that.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe. Believing is bullshit. My only friend, the only person in this world who knew exactly what I was going through, who went through the exact same thing alongside me, is dead, because I found out the truth. Because I realized what was really going on and ran, leaving him alone. I should never have done that.” Castiel said, becoming a mumbling mess, letting his tears run freely.

“Cas…” Charlie said. “I can’t help you unless I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

Castiel bit his lip and dug his nails into his wrists, trying to regain control over this situation spinning out of control. “I wish I could tell you. I wish it was simpler.” Castiel admitted.

“It doesn’t have to be so difficult.” Charlie encouraged.

“Remember the boy I mentioned a while ago? Dean?” Castiel asked.

“Yes.” Charlie answered.

“Last weekend, we hung out. And he knows that… That I’m not doing so well. And he’s been trying to get me to open up to him, to tell him what happened to me. But I… I can’t.  A part of me wants to, I even did a little bit. But it all went to hell really quick. And… I can’t do it.” Castiel admitted.

“PTSD can be a tricky thing, Cas. It’s perfectly understandable that you wouldn’t want to open up about something that has caused you so much pain. Especially since then you must relive it, and that can be very risky.” Charlie said. “However, a part of overcoming PTSD is overcoming your past. You have to come to terms with it soon, or nothing is gonna change.”

“I don’t want to.” Castiel admitted.

“Why not?”

Castiel continued to chew on his lip, resisting the urge to pick at scabs. This week had been very stressful and difficult, and he had the scars to prove it.

“It’ll change everything.”

“How so?”

Castiel looked around nervously. “I might get sent to a psych ward. My parents would have to get involved, and they already kind of know what happened, and have ignored it. The police would get involved. What happened to me… It’s not simple. Word will get out, everyone will know…” Castiel gasped at the thought.

Charlie sat for a moment, deep in thought. “Castiel?”

“What?” He asked.

“I’m not going to force you to tell me what happened. I just want you to know that as I have said before, this is a safe place. Your past would not get out of this room, because of this little thing called patient confidentiality. I legally can’t tell anyone anything you’ve said in this room without your consent.” Charlie said.

“If I tell you, you will want my consent.” Castiel assured.

“You’re right. I might. But we’ll never know how it’ll go unless we talk about it.” Charlie said.

“I’m not ready. I need… I need more time. If I even think about it I’m in tears. I... I-I can’t.” Castiel said, obviously torn and upset.

“Hey, take all the time you need. When you’re ready, and I’m sure someday soon you will be, we’ll talk. Until then, I want you to look after yourself.” Charlie said.

Castiel cocked his head at her last request.

“I know you’re dealing with a lot of stuff, and I can see you’ve been taking it out on yourself. But habits are hard to quit. And one day things might be different.” Charlie said, and Castiel’s heart sank. Of course Charlie knew he was self-destructive. How could she not?

“Next week then?” Castiel said, standing.

“Next week.” Charlie said, giving him a small smile and walking him to the door. “And Cas?” Charlie said, stopping him before he walked out.

“Yes?” He responded.

“I’m sorry about Alfie. But at least you do have a friend in your life. Dean sounds like a decent person.” Charlie said, smiling softly.

“He is.” Castiel agreed. “But he has his own problems.”

“We all do. But they shouldn’t stop us from forming bonds with people.” Charlie said.

“What if the bond you’re forming with someone isn’t the kind of bond you want?” Castiel asked, looking down at the ground. Charlie knew exactly what he meant.

“Give it time.” She said, placing a hand on his shoulder and saying a small goodbye.

Castiel cursed himself as he walked out of the office with Michael. He was so frustrated, torn between spilling his guts and sewing his mouth shut. He wanted to feel better, a part of him wanted to survive. But it was all so complicated, and Castiel avoided complication at all costs.

In the parking lot Castiel kept a few paces ahead of Michael to avoid confrontation about his appointment. He didn't usually tell Michael about what they discussed, but Castiel didn't even feel like offering a confirmation that it went well. He walked into the cold, soft flurries of snow beginning to fall from the overcast sky. A bitter breeze blew against Castiel's skin, and he tried not to think of the memory of his best friend that haunted him like a ghost.

 


	15. Chapter 14: Hands on Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thank you again to everyone commenting and leaving kudos, you're all amazing! This is a longer chapter, and I'm sorry if there are any typos or mistakes. My laptop is on its last limb and I should be getting it fixed this week, but editing has been horribly difficult. But I'm still doing my best to update!
> 
> Warnings for some attempted non-con stuff and really intense anxiety-ridden scenes. But other than that, enjoy! I hope you all have a wonderful week, and I'll just throw it out there again that you can always message me on my tumblr: worthycas, if you want :)

December was a mix of the same dozen carols on repeat, delicious food, and beautiful decorations. But, Castiel couldn’t find any holiday cheer. Every year during the holiday season, Castiel found himself slipping farther and farther from himself.

School dragged on all the way to Christmas break. The days were awful, and Castiel was smoking so much weed he upgraded to dabs, a wax form of the drug that was much stronger. On most days, he was barely coherent.

On the weekends he was all over the place. Meg managed to convince him to go underground, partying with ravers and getting into clubs. After skipping all the way to acid, what was stopping him from trying ecstasy, anyways?

Somehow, he managed to get through finals fairly unscathed. He passed his first semester with B’s and C’s, and his parents were not impressed. But frankly, he didn’t give a fuck.

Everyone around him was concerned. Even Meg, who didn’t appreciate how distant he was becoming. Lately it had been all about the drugs, and he didn’t care much for Meg’s company anymore.

All of his siblings tried to get him in the holiday spirit. Tree decorating and gift shopping, Castiel was having none of it. He got his siblings gifts, obviously. For Anna it was the Prisma Colored pencil set she had been dying to have for months. Gabriel was to receive a cookbook with fifty ways to make mac’ n cheese. He got Luke a vape pen, and Michael a Starbucks gift card.  He even got Meg and Dean gifts. He got Meg a beautiful left-handed bowl with swirls of black and purple. And for Dean (and also partly Sam) he got the complete Star Wars saga. Well, actually he found it in the corner of his crawl space, unused and never opened. He had never actually seen the series, but he knew Sam and Dean enjoyed them. Although, their only copies were pirated versions.

He was thankful for the weekly allowances from his parents he saved, since Zach forbade Castiel have a low-paying fast food job. Although, with how low his grades were this semester, he was sure the allowances would begin to fade or significantly lessen unless he got them back up. Although, after a few discussions with Crowley, he was sure he could find a way to make some cash, even if it wasn’t really legal.

It was this time of year that Castiel wished he appreciated Christmas more, but it brought back so many horrible memories that it was his intention to not even remember the week of Christmas this year.

Dean was concerned, Sam and Mary were concerned, the Novak siblings and Meg were concerned. Castiel, in these last couple weeks, had become colder than the snow on the ground. He hated how much everyone worried about him, when he just wanted to be alone.

Castiel was expected to go to the midnight Christmas Eve Mass with his family. His parents would insist they go early to help set up. And by early, they meant seven o’clock. It made Castiel sick to his stomach. He could barely get through regular Sunday mass, and now he had to be at that Godforsaken place for _hours_.

When the day came, Castiel spent most of it in bed. He didn’t want to smoke, didn’t want to drink. Didn’t even want to see Dean or Meg. He just wanted to sleep through Christmas and then keep trekking on after.

When six o’clock came around and Anna came into his room to get him out of bed and remind him to get ready, he did so, dreading his very existence. He showered with water so hot it left his skin red. He was so exhausted and depressed, he couldn’t even pick up a razor blade to relieve himself. In a sick way, he felt like he deserved this pain.

The Novak family arrived at St. Kevin’s Catholic Church at precisely seven o’clock at night. Mr. and Mrs. Novak were immediately dragged away to do something Castiel didn’t care enough to ask about. He just knew they were doing or reading something for the service tonight. Michael, Luke, and Gabriel were asked to help set up chairs in the cafeteria. Anna and Castiel were in charge of decorating the front room and chapel.

Castiel was handing Anna white fairy lights when he heard his voice. Castiel jerked so horribly he almost made Anna fall off the ladder. She was at his side in an instant, holding onto his arm in support.

“The decorations look lovely.” He spoke, and there was a group of at least fifteen teenagers standing before him, but he still stared right at Castiel. “I’ve been told we’re out of ornaments though, I believe there’s some in the basement, if someone would like to help me retrieve them?”

There was silence, and then there was a shatter as someone across the room dropped a box of random decorations all over the place. A ton of the kids went over to help pick up the mess, and one of Anna’s friends dragged her off despite her reluctance.

“I suppose it’s you and me, Castiel.” Father Marv spoke, voice disgustingly soft. Castiel tried to hold back the urge to collapse right there, looking around desperately for someone to help him, to pull him away from this. But his siblings were nowhere to be seen, and he only found his father’s eyes across the room, who was staring at him coldly. He knew he’d never hear the end of it if he refused to help Father Marv, so with his heart beating loudly in his chest and the inability to speak, Castiel let his head hang low. It was probably better to get this over with now.

Father Marv nodded in approval and turned in the direction of the basement, Castiel following him like he was on death row. No one knew what would happen, all the people greeting Father Marv as they passed only glanced and said hello. No one knew how sick he was, how twisted and fucked up he was. No one but Castiel knew what Father Marv was truly capable of, and how it had ruined Castiel.

The basement was dark and cold, and all too familiar. Castiel hadn’t been down there in over a year. It was as if he was in one of his nightmares as he walked down the cement steps into the unfinished Church basement.

“It’s been a while since we’ve spoken, Castiel.” Father Marv said, searching for the box of ornaments he had promised everyone upstairs. “I was starting to think I’d never get to see you alone again. You haven’t come in for confession in a long time, I’m sure you have a lot to get off your chest.”

Castiel wanted to vomit at Father Marv’s insinuations. Castiel was so stunned by what was currently happening, that he couldn’t even comprehend the depravity of it. Father Marv found the box of ornaments and set them down in satisfaction, before turning to Castiel and moving towards him. It wasn’t until Castiel’s back it the cold, hard wall of the basement that the reality sunk in.

“I know after Alfie, things got pretty messy. The loss of a friend makes it tempting to sway from God’s will, but I know that you can find that path again.” Father Marv said, lifting Castiel’s chin to caress his face.

Castiel fiercely pulled himself away from the priest’s touch, only glaring daggers at him. “God’s will and your will are two very different things, and I am no longer ignorant enough to believe them to be the same.”

Castiel registered the pain of the slap before he actually realized that Father Marv had backhanded him. “It seems as though, in this last year, you have developed an attitude. Nothing we can’t fix, I assure you. It’ll take some extra effort to get your mouth in check, but I am confident I can get you back on track.” Father Marv’s lips pulled back into a wretched smile, a sinister chuckle emitting from his predator-like grin.

“I am not yours to fix anymore.” Castiel spat. “We no longer have sessions together. You cannot force me.”

“But your parents can. After all, I am a trusted, holy man. I can show you the light.” Father Marv said. The short, stout man’s voice going from superficial concern to a sternness that made Castiel’s bones rattle. He lifted a clenched fist and looked at it, and then at Castiel. “Or I can show you darkness. Your choice.”

Castiel could feel his throat closing in, the room was spinning and he wanted to sink to the ground in defeat. But he held his ground, ignored the shakiness in his knees. He couldn’t fall again.

“You have grown so weak, my child.” Father Marv observed, frowning.

“I’ve been a little under the weather.” Castiel snapped, trying to stall time. Father Marv was moving closer to him slowly. In one swift movement, he grabbed Castiel’s hand and bent it in such a way there was an indistinguishable crack in his wrist bone. Father Marv put a hand over his mouth to suppress the scream Castiel emitted.

It was as though Castiel were reliving every nightmare he’d ever had all at once. Everything he had been too terrified to speak about, everything he tried so hard to ignore and swallow down with the aid of drugs and alcohol, by opening his veins every night, was for nothing. Because here he was now, trapped in the same basement that held some of his darkest secrets, being cornered by a man who had ruined him, and would continue to ruin him until the day he was buried in the cemetery out back.

Castiel wished he hadn’t been too much of a coward to drag these last few months out. If he were dead he wouldn’t be in this basement right now, and this was the only hell he was truly terrified of.

“Oh come on, Castiel. When will you stop with this new self-righteousness of yours? Your soul belongs to me, do you not remember?” Father Marv spoke, voice quiet and disturbing as Castiel’s back was pressed so hard against the wall, his spine would definitely bruise.

“Please.” Castiel begged, too petrified and in pain to do anything but beg. If he ran, if he screamed, no one would believe him. His parents would hate him, everyone would. They would make excuses again, it would be erased and blown off as though it never happened. He was undeniably helpless.

Father Marv smirked. “I always did like it when you begged.”

There were hands on him, and then lips, and then hands around his throat. And he Castiel could feel himself slipping, could hear himself weeping, choking, sobbing, and begging for Father Marv to stop. His wrist was in so much pain. He was trapped, a part of him wanting to fight, an even bigger part still reminiscent from when this was a weekly occurrence, telling him to just stay still and know that it would be over soon, and then he’d be able to breathe again.

“Cas?” Castiel heard his name being called by his sister. Castiel had never felt such relief as when he heard Anna’s voice in that moment.

Father Marv let out an annoyed growl. “Don’t worry, Castiel. We’ll meet again. You will always belong to me.”  

And then he was gone, and Castiel was on the ground, gasping for breath. He was sobbing, crying out so that Anna could find him. Except, it wasn’t just Anna, it was all of his siblings.

“Oh my God!” Anna yelled, running towards where Castiel was sitting on the cold basement floor. “What happened, are you okay? Father Marv ran past us, Michael and Luke would have killed him. I would have let them, but it _is_ Christmas Eve, so another day, okay? Did he hurt you?” Anna was rambling, and Castiel was still regaining air from having been choked, and losing it from what felt like the worst anxiety attack he had ever experienced.

“Cas, can you speak?” Michael asked, kneeling next to him. The basement was almost pitch black, but the light from the stairs could illuminate the forming bruises on Castiel’s neck. Castiel shook his head, trying to control his crying. He was cradling his swollen and busted wrist, and Michael gasped when he noticed. “Your wrist is hurt.”

“What do we do? The service starts in a couple hours?” Gabriel said, kneeling on the other side of Castiel and rubbing his back.

“He can’t stay here. Not like this. I won’t let that sick fuck ever get anywhere near him.” Luke vowed, and they all agreed on that.

“Where does he go? Who goes with him? What do we tell Mom and Dad?” Anna asked.

“We can tell Mother he got sick. Gabriel and Anna, you take him. Luke and I will stay here to keep an eye out and keep Father from getting worked up that some of his kids are missing. ” Michael said, and Luke groaned but agreed.

“Where do we take him?” Gabriel asked.

“Home?” Anna suggested.

“No, that won’t help him at all.” Michael said.

“Dean Winchester’s. Someone call Dean.” Gabriel said, and they all nodded.

Anna sat down next to Castiel and pulled out his phone, finding Dean’s number and hitting the call button.

“Hey Cas.” Dean greeted, having picked up on the first ring.

“Dean? This is Anna, Cas’ sister.” Anna said, speaking quickly. They had to hurry.

“What’s wrong?” Dean said, instantly understanding something was up.

“We’re at the church right now for Christmas Eve Mass. Something happened, we’ll explain later, but we need to get Castiel out of here and you’re the only person who can help.” Anna said, speaking so fast everyone was afraid Dean wouldn’t understand her.

“Okay, bring him here. Can I talk to him?” Dean asked. Anna handed Castiel the phone, helping him stand.

“Cas?” Dean asked, and Castiel still couldn’t formulate words to say hello, he was still crying so hard. “Listen, you’re gonna be alright, okay? You’re gonna be here soon and I’ll call Meg over too. Just keep breathing okay?”

Castiel nodded, despite the fact that Dean couldn’t see. Anna gently took the phone from him to tell Dean they had to go.

“Dean, we’ll be there soon, but he can’t be on the phone right now.” Anna said.

“Okay, okay, make sure he’s okay.” Dean reminded, already upset.

“We will.” Anna said before hanging up.

The church was already buzzing with people, but it wasn’t hard to locate Naomi Novak, Zach was nowhere to be seen.  All five of her children walked up to her with a purpose, and she knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” She asked, instantly concerned.

“Cas is sick, we have to take him home.” Anna said. They were all surrounding him like a human shield, so that no one could see the forming bruises on his neck or how hard he was breathing.

“O-Okay, what happened?” Naomi asked, shocked by the bluntness. She tried to see her youngest son, but Luke was standing directly in front of him.

“Nothing. Anna, Gabriel, and Castiel are going home.” Michael said monotonously.

Naomi looked at her children as if they were crazy. “Your father will be livid.”

“He’d be even more upset if Cas puked all over the place in the middle of a service.” Gabriel pointed out.

Naomi sighed and nodded. “Okay. We won’t be home until very late though. We’re going to get something to eat with the Martin’s after.” Naomi said.

“It’s fine, see you later bye!” Anna said quickly, heading towards the exit. Michael and Luke walked with them, despite the weird looks regarding their stiff formation. Naomi tried not to overthink how strange her children were acting.

Gabriel drove separately from their parents, since they had to take two cars nowadays anyways. Anna sat in the backseat with Castiel, still trying to soothe him. But it was if he was stuck in this anxiety attack, crying so hard his voice was going hoarse. Plus, his wrist had undoubtedly been injured, it was even sitting in a funny way. Castiel wouldn’t let Anna look at it, fearing that she would lift his sleeve and see everything he was hiding.

Pushing ten over the speed limit, they made it to Dean’s house in fifteen minutes. Dean was standing outside in the cold, snowy night when they pulled up. Meg was also there, both of them wearing worried faces.

Dean pretty much ran to the Castiel’s side of the car, opening up the door, and helping Castiel out. Castiel wasn’t crying anymore, but ominously silent, and Dean was terrified as he pretty much carried him into the house.

“What the hell happened?” Dean asked, sitting Castiel down on a kitchen chair and instantly doing a checkup. Sam ran down the stairs then, and Meg was standing at Cas’ side waiting for answers.

“He was assaulted.” Anna said simply, knowing that it wasn’t necessarily her story to tell. Castiel hadn’t told anyone about Father Marv yet, and she didn’t want to take that away from him.

“You think?” Dean replied angrily.

“Dean, chill.” Sam reprimanded, handing him a first aid kit.

“Who assaulted him?” Meg asked, watching as Dean loosened Castiel’s tie and gently lifted his chin to look at the strangulation bruises.

Anna and Gabriel exchanged looks, and Dean stared at them in furious awe. “Is there a problem?” He asked, annoyed by the secrecy.

“You both know that he’s had a rough past, right?” Gabriel asked. Dean and Meg nodded. “Well, this has to do with that. And until he’s ready to open up, our lips are sealed. All you need to know is that someone attacked him, strangled him, possibly broke his wrist, and planned to do other bad things.”

Meg shook her head and crossed her arms, biting her lip and exhaling sharply all at once. She was scared, upset, angry, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

Dean kneeled down in front of him. “Hey,” he said softly. “I need to take a look at your wrist.”

Castiel, barely even present in his own body, still managed to see Dean through his tears and nod. Dean gently lifted it, and Castiel yelled out a curse that faded into a broken cry. It made everyone wince.

“I don’t think it’s completely broken, but it’s definitely dislocated.” Dean said.

“So what now?” Anna asked.

Dean helped shrug off Castiel’s tan trench coat, and completely took off his tie. “We’re gonna have to relocate it.” Dean said.

“You know how to do that?” Meg asked, defensively standing next to Castiel.

“Yeah, I mean it’s gonna hurt but it’s the only way we can do this on Christmas Eve and at home. My mom is a nurse, she’s taught me well.” Dean said, kneeling in front of Castiel again. “Cas, how do you feel about that? Is it okay for me to relocate your wrist?”

Castiel nodded, blood-shot eyes looking at Dean with brave determination.

“It’s gonna hurt.” Dean warned. But Castiel just tried to take a deep breath and nodded again, sticking out his arm. “Alright. Gabriel, Meg? Hold back his shoulders so he doesn’t move.”

Dean gave Castiel one last worried glance before crouching down and gently wrapping his hands around Castiel’s wrist. Castiel’s breathing was already labored. In one swift movement, Dean popped the bone back into its place. Castiel screamed, trying to jerk away from the pain, but Gabe and Meg held him down. Dean kept whispering that he was sorry, even as Sam handed Dean the supplies to wrap it and make a splint.

“It should heal fine in a couple weeks.” Dean told Anna and Gabriel.

“He’s still not calming down.” Anna announced, sounding worried.

“He will, don’t worry.” Dean assured. “Let’s move him to the living room.”

Meg set up a nice place for him to lay on the couch, blankets and pillows laid out for him. Dean helped Castiel to his feet and then over to the couch. He was calmer when Meg helped take his shoes off and tucked him in, but still out of it.

“What do we do now?” Dean asked, stepping back into the kitchen to where Anna and Gabriel were standing.

“I don’t know.” Anna said truthfully.

“Press charges?” Dean offered.

“We can’t.” Gabriel declared.

“Why not? We have the evidence?”

“ _We can’t.”_ Gabriel said sternly once more.

Dean scoffed. “He’s your brother, and you’re not gonna press charges against the person who did this? He has bruises around his neck and had a dislocated wrist. And there’s hickey’s all over his neck, not from Meg. So not only was there assault, but attempted sexual assault.”

“You don’t understand.” Anna said, looking at the ground in guilt.

“What don’t I understand?” Dean asked exasperatedly. “I understand that Castiel has been through some shit, and that this isn’t something to just sweep under the rug. I understand he’s been really down in the dumps these past few days. I understand that he won’t sleep well for weeks now. I understand that just because he might not be ready to tell the world about his past, doesn’t mean we should put his health and well-being on the line in the mean-time.

“You’re right, Dean. But you still don’t understand. This isn’t some random attacker in the parking lot. This is a powerful man who’s not going to be easy to take down. And I know we can’t sweep it under the rug, but there’s so much more underneath that rug too. And it’s Castiel’s rug. There is so much you don’t know, Dean. So much that we don’t either. And if we make this decision for him, he will never forgive us.” Gabriel said, his bitter aggravation turning into hopelessness.

Dean gave them both a distraught look, shutting his eyes and running his fingers through his hair. “What do we do?”

“Give him time.” Anna suggested. “Let him work through the anxiety. There’s nothing we can do, he just has to get it out of his system.”

“Keep an eye on him” Gabriel offered. “In case he tries to pull something stupid.”

Dean knew that Anna and Gabriel didn’t know of Castiel’s cutting habits, but he did agree. They would have to be on high alert of him these next few days.

“Okay.” Dean replied simply. It wasn’t the answer he wanted to give, but he couldn’t do anything right now. So he did the only thing he could. He nodded at the both of them, and turned to go sit with Castiel.

Castiel was curled up in a ball on the couch with his cheek on the cold leather. His breath was still getting caught in his throat and he shook terribly. Tears leaked from his eyes but he didn’t _cry_. Castiel didn’t think he could anymore. After the depression and sadness came the numbness and guilt.

“Hey.” Dean greeted softly.

Castiel didn’t respond, and Dean didn’t expect him to. So Dean sat next to him, keeping some distance.

“Do you want any pain meds? I think I have Advil or Ibuprofen?” Dean asked. Castiel just gently shook his head. The pain in his wrists was all he had keeping him level right now.

Steadily, the others joined them. Anna and Gabriel gave Castiel worried looks but didn’t say anything. Sam got the remote and sat in the arm chair. Meg took the seat at Castiel’s feet, careful not to touch him but to look back at him every now and again.

Sam wordlessly put The Christmas Story on. They all watched in silence, as Castiel gazed into the distance, losing himself.

But Dean knew where he was going, a dark place that would be impossible to pull him back from. So he gently placed his hand on Castiel’s arm. Castiel didn’t jerk, he knew it was Dean. He just shivered, tightening further into the little ball he was in.

Dean moved closer, slowly but surely in case Castiel decided he wasn’t okay with it.

But Castiel didn’t say anything when Dean was right next to him, only tried to resist the urge to forget who was in the room with him, and lay with Dean. But he wanted to be held, wanted it desperately. And Dean could tell.

“Are you tired?” Dean asked, placing his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel nodded, eyes drooping. “Do you want to go lay down?” Again, Castiel nodded.

Dean stood up, helping Castiel to follow.

“Where are you two going?” Meg asked.

“He’s tired and wants to go lay down.” Dean responded.

Meg stood too. “You gonna go with him?” Meg asked, surprisingly without sarcasm.

“Yes.” Dean said tightly.

“Good.” Meg said simply. She went and stood by Cas. “Hey, I have to go. I came as soon as I could, but Ruby’s at home with the flu and I can’t leave her alone too long. I’ll see you soon though, right?” Meg asked, smiling at Castiel softly.

Castiel just took a deep breath and nodded. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Meg and she thankfully hugged him back, kissing him on the temple. “You’re gonna be fine, Clarence. Let Dean take care of you.”

Meg walked out the door, and Castiel knew that even if he wasn’t interested in her romantically, he did love Meg Masters.

“I’m taking him upstairs, he’s really tired. Sam, come get us when they’re ready to leave. Make them some food or something, I don’t know. Mom will be home from work at three.” Dean said, speaking to Anna, Gabriel, and Sam.

“Do you have stuff to make Christmas cookies?” Anna asked. She knew they’d be here until at least one in the morning, and it was only nearing nine-thirty.

“Yeah!” Sam realized, and all three of them moved their way to the kitchen. Even despite what had happened to Castiel tonight in the basement of the church, there was still some Christmas spirit left. And Castiel was happy for the three digging out recipes and ingredients to make cookies. This Christmas hadn’t felt like Christmas. Not for the Novak’s, who were supposed to be the symbol for the perfect Catholic family to celebrate Christmas right. But Zachariah was never home, and Naomi was either to drunk or too hungover to pay attention to her kids or initiate fun activities. There were some lights strung up on the roof and a perfectly snow-dusted fake tree in the living room. And that was as far as the Christmas spirit got in the Novak home.

The Winchester’s house was much more decorative, with Christmas related knick-knacks in every corner and many presents under the tree. It just felt homier.

Dean helped Castiel up the stairs, leading him to his bedroom. “Do you want to change?” Dean asked, but Castiel shook his head. Castiel just sat down on the bed, eye’s focused on the carpet. Dean turned on his TV, the same Christmas movie as before.

Dean sat beside him, gently picking up Castiel’s wrist to inspect it. Even beneath dozens of self-inflicted injuries, Dean could see it was still bruising, but would heal in time. Dean moved his hand upwards, slowly to make sure Castiel didn’t mind. And he didn’t, he didn’t do anything. Didn’t tense or pull away.

Dean’s fingers traced over the bruises on Castiel’s neck, the ones from unwelcomed hands, the ones from unwelcomed lips. It made Dean angry. He wasn’t in to Castiel, (he was straight, remember?), they weren’t together. But it wasn’t just a platonic, protective anger. It was the slowly burning and jealous rage that made his skin hot.

“You didn’t deserve this.” Dean said slowly, fingers trailing up to run through Castiel’s hair.

Castiel just bit his lip. “He made me feel like I did.” His voice was hoarse and weak.

Dean sighed, hands pausing to rest on Castiel’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

Castiel didn’t care anymore if he cried, but he still wiped away a couple stray tears. “I’m just so tired of this.”

“I know.” Dean said, leaning closer and resting his forehead on Castiel’s shoulder, offering some comfort but not invading his space.

“I didn’t want to spend my Christmas wishing I were dead.” Castiel mumbled, hands clawing gently at the bruises on his neck.

Dean sat up again and turned his head to look at Castiel. “Is the one who did this…? Is he your past?”

Castiel lifted his eyes to Dean shamefully, as though he had been caught in a lie. His cheeks were pink, but it wasn’t gentle embarrassment or bashfulness, it was realization that although he wasn’t about to spill his guts, Dean would now be able to piece some things together he hadn’t before. Castiel reluctantly nodded, turning to look at the ground. Dean immediately gasped a little and sat up. He still didn’t know the exact person who did this, but now he was able to get a better idea as to why this was even more upsetting for Castiel than it could have been if it was one isolated incident. “If I ever see him, I’ll kill him.”

Castiel pulled away from Dean, confused. “Really?”

“Yes.” Dean promised, and Castiel’s slight horror turned into amazement, and then to nothing, his face going blank and stoic.

“He would deserve it.” Castiel said dryly. There was no hesitance, no softness, and no humanity. Father Marv was not the saint he pretended to be, and he didn’t deserve to live like one.

“I wish I could fix it all.” Dean breathed out, frustrated. Because he knew now, what Castiel had been too afraid to say before. And he understood, and Castiel had been right. This wasn’t an abusive parent, this wasn’t a bullying incident. This was, as Dean could tell, Castiel having been abused since his childhood. He didn’t just feel sadness for Castiel, he was angry. There was a hot heat brewing in his stomach, hatred forming for the man who did this. Dean didn’t want to just sympathize with Castiel, he wanted to press charges, to tear out this man’s throat himself.

Castiel shook his head. “You can’t. There’s damage done you can’t fix. He’s stolen everything from me.”

 “Everything?” Dean asked, moving closer just a bit.

Castiel took a deep breath and nodded.

Dean thought for a moment, opening and closing his mouth before making up his mind. There was so much he wished he could do for Castiel, to help ease the pain now that he knew more. “I can’t fix everything. But I can try to give you back at least one thing he took from you.”

Castiel’s swollen eyes went wide at Dean, surprised by his words, as they were not what he had been expecting. But Castiel knew what he wanted, what he wanted to try, what he might only get once and never again. He only hoped it wouldn’t ruin everything.

“Really?” Castiel breathed, adrenaline running through his veins like boiling water.

Dean pursed his lips together for a moment, only slightly conflicted before finally becoming set on his decision. “What do you want, Cas?” Dean asked tenderly.

There was a moment where their eyes locked as Dean got even closer. There were no words, no further questioning.  Just a look of intensity they shared, as though they both knew the words Castiel would soon utter.

“Kiss me.”

Castiel spoke like his lungs were shriveling. It was silent, Castiel looking at Dean with a half-crazed, half-desperate expression. But then he felt instant regret and shame, and just began rambling to take it back. “If you don’t want to it’s fine. I know you don’t like boys. Frankly, I haven’t quite figured it all out, but I have Meg, even if we don’t really-“

There was Castiel rambling, and then there was a drastic change to silence. Castiel felt the bed shift and a hand on his back, and Dean’s lips on his.

It wasn’t like the kisses he and Meg shared. It was warmer. Not quick or as a means of hello and goodbye. It was soft, but somehow fiery. It was gentle, but rough enough that Castiel could feel his heart beating so loud in his chest he thought he was going to pass out.

And Castiel knew he should pull away, because this is Dean Winchester he’s currently slowly, but surely, kissing. This is the same Dean Winchester who is the football superstar at LHS, one of the most popular seniors, and also the school renowned womanizer. He didn’t have girlfriends, he had a long line of hook-ups and short-term flings. The closest thing he had to a girlfriend was with Lisa Braedon, who came in and out of the picture often. Castiel remembers seeing her at the Talbot’s party with Gordon, and how upset Dean had been seeing them walk down the hallway to a bedroom together.

But these lips were not his to kiss. Not even a couple weeks ago had Dean made it explicitly clear to Castiel that he was straight. This was nothing more than a pity kiss. A ‘hey, I know you were just assaulted and I feel really bad, so here’s a kiss so you know the beauty of consent’ kiss. It didn’t really mean anything, and when it was over, Dean would probably threaten Castiel to keep his mouth shut, pretend it didn’t happen, or kick Cas out because it had happened in the heat of the moment. Or all three. But no matter what occurred, Castiel knew it wouldn’t be good. This vain attempt to give back to Castiel would no-doubt back-fire. And it would be Castiel who got burned.

Castiel felt Dean’s hands shift, one to Castiel’s good hand, the other cupping his jaw. Dean pulled away only slightly, their foreheads connecting. “Relax.” Dean breathed, and Castiel knew that Dean could feel Cas’ pulse on his hand, beating as fast as a race horse. But Dean’s soft command did little to help Castiel, because he was still in shock that this was happening, and he had never been kissed like this before. It wasn’t rough and selfish like Father Marv, it wasn’t platonic and meaningless like Meg. This was real, this was heated, and this was nothing Castiel had expected when he asked Dean to kiss him.

But he let him, let Dean caress his face in his hand and kiss him like it was his job. He had heard rumors of Dean being a great kisser, and now he was proving them to be true. And after a few moments of self-confliction in regards to whether or not it was a good idea to be kissing him, Castiel moved his lips in return. Instead of just being kissed, he kissed back too.

His good hand reached up to wrap around Dean’s wrist, just as a safety net. Only hours ago had Father Marv assaulted him, and Castiel shouldn’t want any human contact right now. But it was different with Dean.

Dean was eager to feel Castiel kiss him back, and then it was as though any walls that had been up were torn down violently. Like a dam had broken, there was no care that they _shouldn’t_ be doing this. A good Catholic boy and a manly football star; Castiel shouldn’t have wanted this and Dean shouldn’t be giving in and enjoying it. But here they were anyways.

It was so wrong. Castiel knew if anyone were to find out, if his mother, or worse, his father, were to find out… It would be back to church therapy with Father Marv. His siblings had nothing against loving the same sex, but Castiel would still be an outcast in the eyes of the church, in the eyes of his parents. And Dean still held to the idea that he was completely straight, that he was helping a friend and _Listen, Cas is different…_ Because he would never have done a thing like this for Gordon or Benny. But he knew if his father found out he was willingly kissing a boy and liking it, he would be beaten six ways from Sunday. Sammy and Mary would always love him, but would his father? Would his teammates even be able to look him in the eyes if they knew?

But they both swallowed down all the fears that swam in their minds. If anything, it made their adrenaline pump even faster. Because it was wrong, it was wrong but _God_ , did it feel _so right_.

They both fought for control, but it was Castiel who was pushed gently onto his back. Their lips never broke apart, Dean only climbed further onto the bed, Castiel’s arms wrapping properly around him. Their tongues were foreign in each other’s mouths but they made themselves at home there.

The kiss only lasted for a couple minutes, and then, being the pubescent teenage boys that they were, of course they wanted more. And when Dean’s lips found their way to Castiel’s throat and he was nibbling and licking and _marking_ , and Castiel was like putty in his arms. Castiel let out the hottest sounding noise from the back of his throat that made Dean nearly lose it. And just like that, Dean was back to reality. He pulled away from Castiel, giving the dazed and confused boy one last kiss on the lips before sitting up.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.” Dean whispered, pulling Castiel up with him. And Castiel was still riding the high from Dean’s lips on his, but he knew it wasn’t real and it wouldn’t last. It was a few minutes of a beautiful glance at heaven, but he was still in hell. He didn’t regret it, and Dean didn’t either. But they both knew that that was that. It was one kiss, and there was nothing more. But it didn’t make it sting any less. Castiel could still taste Dean, even as they both moved to lean against the headboard to finish the movie. Dean hadn’t freaked, hadn’t kicked Castiel out and swore him not to speak of it again. But Castiel knew not to bring it up. It was a page to be crumpled up and thrown in the trash. They would just continue on, pretending as if nothing happened, as if that kiss hadn’t been a religious experience for Castiel, an important realization for Dean.

They both just sat up, eyes not really watching the movie. But it was only about ten o’clock, and they still had time to wait until it was time for the Novak’s to leave and go home. Castiel just took a deep breath, still fighting off the last bits of anxiety that reached for him. His episode earlier had been worse than anything he’s ever had. And his wrist ached, his neck was sore. But at least one of the swollen bruises there didn’t belong to Father Marv. Some of the teeth marks belonged to Dean, and that was the kind of reminder Castiel needed to stay level-headed. Even though he and Dean couldn’t be together, he was definitely the lesser of two evils compared to Father Marv.

Another hour into the movie, and Dean began dozing off onto Castiel’ shoulder. Twenty minutes later, in the darkness of Dean’s bedroom, Castiel fell asleep as well. And in their sleep, there was no care in the world for what they were allowed, as they reached for each other and held on, they slept peacefully together.

That was, until Gabriel was pounding at the door, and they both stumbled into consciousness as if it was gunshots they were hearing.

“There’s no sock on the door handle but I just wanted to be careful.” Gabriel said when Dean opened the door. Dean just gave him a half-asleep dirty look and opened the door wider so that Cas could also roll his eyes. “How are you, sleeping beauty?”

“I feel better.” Castiel admitted, eyes still focusing on Gabriel. “Is it time to leave?”

“Yep, Mikey just texted to tell us to get our asses back before Mom and Dad got home at one-thirty.” Gabriel said, holding up his phone that read it was one in the morning.

“Very well.” Castiel said, still half asleep.

They all walked down the stairs, stopping in the kitchen to get Anna. “Try this.” Anna said, handing Castiel a Christmas tree cookie. The kitchen was a mess, frosting and flour everywhere. There was flour all over Sam and Anna, and a platter of several dozen cookies in the center of the island.

Castiel hesitantly bit into the cookie Anna handed him, but instantly nodded in approval and finished it. “They’re very good.”

“Thank the Winchester recipe and Gabriel’s fine, Novak spin on it.” Anna said, smiling proudly at Sam and Gabriel.

“Alright, time to leave before Mom and Dad get home before us and it freak’s the Jesus out of them.” Gabriel said, grabbing his jacket on the counter and ruffling Sam’s hair as he passed. Sam smiled fondly after Gabriel, handing him one last cookie for the road.

Sam led Anna and Gabriel to the door, but Castiel hung back to say goodbye to Dean.

“Thank you for helping me tonight.” Castiel said, eyes on the ground as he spoke. He looked up to find Dean staring at him, as if he was trying to read Castiel.

“Of course.” Dean said gently. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m never okay.” Dean gave him a disproving look. “I’ll try to be.”

“Good.” Dean said, pulling in Cas for a hug. “Don’t hurt yourself tonight.” He whispered, pressing one last kiss to his forehead. Castiel shut his eyes, never wanting Dean to take his hands off him.

Castiel didn’t say anything, just gave a small, sad smile and turning to go to the door. He waved one last goodbye.

Sam was standing at the door, and Castiel hesitated, wanting to say thank you and goodbye, but not finding the words in time before Sam, in all his short, freshman glory, hugged Castiel around his rib cage tightly.

Castiel ‘oomph’ed in surprise, taken aback by the sudden gesture. But he wrapped his arms around Sam in return, and there was no spoken goodbye. Just a knowing, thankful glance before Castiel was out the door, slipping his trench coat back on, and heading to the car.

He was still hurting, a year of shit he kicked under the rug coming back to eat him alive. But he was still feeling euphoria from Dean Winchester, so he was good for now.

But like all highs, the going up was great, but the coming down was so, so much worse.


	16. Chapter 15: If You Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Not even gonna bother writing a long sappy apology for not updating in a while, I know I'm a shitty author and I feel really awful about it but ya girl has been having a rough past few weeks (i.e. school, my laptop breaking and me not being able to get a new one for a while, my mental health steadily declining, etc.) But I'm doing okay right now and I finally got some free time to get this chapter up. But still, very, very sorry about not updating regularly. I'm doing my best here.
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone for the lovely comments!! I love hearing your feedback. A few of you have even contacted me on my tumblr (worthycas), and that's so fricking amazing. Hopefully I can get back in the swing of things, cause there's still a lot left of this story to tell.

In the month's that had passed, Castiel's life began to resemble that of a roller coaster. Sometimes he was up, more often he was down. Things were good, then bad, then good, and then worse. Except the going down part wasn't as fun when it was a metaphor for your life. Up until Christmas he was managing. But his uphill battle became a downhill war way too quickly.

The few days after the Christmas Eve incident, Castiel was just _numb_. All of his siblings were worried, but when weren’t they? This time though, they were waiting for some kind of full-blown relapse or psychotic break. But surprisingly he was relatively normal, he just had to wear high-collared shirts and scarves for a while, and take lots of Advil for the dull pain in his wrist.

Christmas morning had been a haze of his mother shaking off a hangover, and his father keeping his distance from his family. The Novak children exchanged gifts, and eventually their mother handed them each a generous check telling them to go wild. They didn’t have Christmas mornings of unwrapping gifts and watching Christmas movies all together. No, the Novak parents hid away, while the kids made a nice breakfast and sat at the table to eat. Christmas evening they would have distant family over for dinner, but that was as far as their festivities went.

And then, right as the New Year approached, the steady wave of numbness collapsed like a tidal wave.

It started with a nightmare, one that woke up the entire house as Castiel screamed and wept. Zachariah ran into Castiel’s room with a sleep-disturbed rage that had no care for the fact that his son was a sobbing mess. He screamed at him for a bit to be considerate of other’s and stop acting so damn crazy all the time. But then he was gone, and Castiel was reduced to a blubbering mess, still coming out of his nightmare haze. He thought that by waking up he’d feel better. But he only left one circle of hell for another. Anna had to come in to soothe him, sing him to sleep as Gabriel joined them on the floor. Michael and Luke ended up wandering in soon thereafter, and all five of them slept in Castiel’s room, falling asleep to the sound of Anna singing Castiel’s favorite songs. Castiel felt guilt all the time for how he had to be taken care of, but for now, he appreciated what his siblings were willing to give.

The first couple days he had resisted the urge to cut, drink, or smoke. Because Dean had asked him to not hurt himself, and still partially on cloud nine from their kiss, Castiel could of course oblige. He was still distant, only talking to Dean through text a couple times a day. But after the nightmare, Castiel didn’t really care anymore for Dean’s sake. And the next thing he knew he was in the bathroom, a hot bath running, an industrial razor blade in his palms, and the overwhelming urge to split his veins.

And he did. And everything became a lot simpler, as if he was draining himself of all the pent-up darkness. Things were easier when he didn’t feel like he was going to explode out of his skin, and cutting relieved the pressure.

The next day he called Meg, and Castiel spent the entire day so high he forgot what it was to be sober.

Soon after that, Meg decided to throw a New Year’s party. And of course Castiel could get on board with that, any chance to openly drink, party, smoke, and have a good time, he would take.

Each of his siblings had plans of their own, even his parents would be gone for the night, so Castiel could safely crash at Meg’s without worried brothers and a sister, or nagging parents.

He helped Meg set up for the party, even invited Dean. Dean was down to party (or supervise Cas, really). But Castiel didn’t care, because he could drink a lot tonight, feel the dim lights of the party wash over him, and actually forget.

Castiel kept swallowing down every bit of anxiety he had, self-medicating to fight the urge to continually harm himself. New Year’s Eve was exactly what he needed to get out of his own head.

The party wouldn’t be as big as the Halloween party, but there would be a good amount of people there. Crowley was coming again, bringing better weed and more alcohol this time.

The party started at nine, and people started to show up soon after that. Castiel didn’t have a care in the world, and spent the first hour smoking by himself as people came and went. Even Meg told him to slow down just a bit. He wasn’t actually there to be a good host, he was just trying to get hammered and high, and everything in between.

Castiel was already trying to deal with the Father Marv situation brewing in the back of his mind, so when he saw Dean walk into the party with a pretty brunette on his arm, his heart dropped immediately. He could feel the darkness inside him moving like a tsunami in his rib cage.

He shouldn’t be upset to see Dean with another girl, he should be happy for him. They are friends, after all. But still, Castiel felt this slight possession over Dean. If it hadn’t been the fact that they made out literally days ago, and all of a sudden after months of Dean going solo, Dean has a pretty girl walking around with him, Castiel maybe wouldn’t have been so angry. Maybe a bit sad or bitter, but not pissed and biting back rage. For a while, he avoided Dean. Trying to find any shred of dignity and soberness to carry his trembling body.

“Hey,” Dean said, grabbing Castiel’s shoulder as Castiel was heading to the bar area again.

“Oh. Hello, Dean.” Castiel said awkwardly, eyes on the floor. They hadn’t seen each other since Christmas, albeit it had only been a few days, but in a haze of drugs and self-mutilating, it felt like a lifetime.

“Cas, this is Carmen. Carmen, this is Cas.” Dean introduced the two, and there was immediately this unreasonable tension in the air.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Carmen said, a sickly sweet smile on her lips. She was beautiful, and Castiel returned a tight smile. They didn’t even know each other, or know each other’s relation to Dean, but there was already an unspoken hatred already between them.

“And the same to you.” He said quickly. And they just stared at each other with glared eyes as if they were fighting over territory. Dean shifted uncomfortably just as Meg walked by. She too noticed Castiel’s face and how he was smiling something that even made her feel threatened.

“Whoa, looks like some of us need a drink.” Meg interrupted, handing Carmen the drink she had made for Cas, and Cas the drink she had made for herself. Meg dragged Castiel off elsewhere, getting him away from Dean and Carmen as quickly as possible.

Castiel drank the entirety of the cup in ten seconds, turning to Meg desperately. “I need to be so high and drunk I won’t remember a thing tomorrow.” Castiel plead desperately, and Meg knew she should say no, because Castiel was in a bad place right now and Dean would probably kill her for instigating his bad habits. But she was never obligated to fix Castiel, or put him on the path of recovery. She catered to his wants and needs, and that was it, that was the backbone of their friendship and farce of a relationship.

“Alright.” She said, turning to grab another unknown drink from the bartender.

So Castiel drank, drank so much he couldn’t even walk straight. And then he was smoking a whole joint by himself, and even Crowley was impressed that this sixteen-year old mess of a kid was still standing.

And when it was11:59, and everyone at Meg’s was counting down to midnight, Castiel could see Dean and Carmen on the other side of the room, both slightly drunk and standing extremely close. So Castiel found Meg, who was also pretty wasted. And when the clock hit midnight, Cas locked eyes with Dean just as he pulled Meg in for a kiss that was more passionate than anything Meg and he had ever shared. But they were dating, technically, and Castiel was allowed to this. And Meg went along with it, because she was drunk and wanted to kiss someone too. And as the house cheered for the New Year, Castiel just turned for another drink and another hit. And the last thing he remembered seeing was Dean pecking Carmen on the cheek at midnight, and the look of worry on Dean’s face as he stared at Cas from across the room.

\-- -

Hangovers were a bitch, and when you were drunk and high, they were the worst thing imaginable.

Castiel woke up in Meg’s bed, an arm wrapped lazily around his waist. And he instantly panicked, realizing he was shirtless and in Meg’s bed with an arm around his waist that didn’t feel like Meg’s.

But he was up puking his guts out in Meg’s toilet before he could overthink it. Being too tired, and still slightly drunk and high, he felt someone carry him back to the bed, where he fell asleep, not even caring about who was sleeping beside him.

\-- -

When he woke up again, things were clearer. The sun was more risen than it had been when he woke up the first time. His eyes cracked open to a glass of water on the bedside table and some aspirin, and he went to thankfully grab it. But there was still a body pressed up next to him, and he sat up quickly in confusion.

His pounding headache was made worse by the movement, but he both calmed and panicked when he saw Dean beginning to wake up next to him. Castiel just sighed and took the aspirin Meg must have left him. There was enough for two, but he didn’t offer any to Dean just yet.

“Good Morning.” Dean greeted, obviously hungover himself.

Castiel hummed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Castiel pushed Dean away from him, maybe a bit too rough to just be an attempt to get up. And Dean sat up immediately, staring at Castiel as he walked around Meg’s room in search of his shirt.

“What’s your problem?” Dean asked, eyebrow furrowing as he followed Castiel’s movement around the room.

Castiel suddenly stopped his search, standing up straight to glare over at Dean. “I’m hungover. What’s _your_ problem?” He asked, with a tone of borderline disgust.

They were just being shitty to each other, both hungover and still subconsciously pissed about the night before. They were all dirty looks and rude tones because for some reason Castiel couldn’t really remember, he was pissed at Dean, and Dean was growing angrier at Cas by the second.

Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm when he went on Dean’s side of the bed to look for his shirt, and Castiel hissed at the contact on the cuts on his arm. “I thought you said you would stop?” Dean asked, staring at all the new, deeper, marks on his arms.

“Actually, you told me not to hurt myself that night. And I mean, correct me if I’m mistaken, but it’s no longer that night.” Castiel said, purposely trying to piss Dean off. “Where the fuck is my shirt?”

“Cas.” Dean said. But Cas just threw him another dirty look. “Cas.” Dean repeated, but Castiel still didn’t respond. Dean sighed in frustration, sitting up and grabbing Cas’ good arm (because the other was still a bit sore from Christmas Eve), wrestling him down onto the bed and holding him down by his wrists before practically growling “ _Castiel._ ” to get his attention.

Castiel, who had been all snarkyness and sass this morning, shrunk away in instant fear of the position they were in and the aggravation in Dean’s tone. He bared his neck and let out the tiniest whimper, like he was expecting to be hit or something. Dean’s own aggravation was put on hold, and he released his grip, feeling bad for making Cas so afraid.

“Why are you so angry with me?” Dean asked, trying to be nicer, but Castiel just shot daggers out of his eyes at Dean.

“Fuck off.” He spat.

“No.” Dean refused, blocking Castiel from getting up.

“Dean, move.” Castiel said, starting off with pure, red anger. He kept trying to move but Dean was hell-bent on keeping him down until he explained what was wrong. Castiel, having enough, shoved Dean away from him full force and onto the floor.

“Really?!" Dean asked from the ground, staring at Castiel with shock and a hint amusement.

Cas just squinted down at him, cocking his head to the side before he hopped off of Dean and the bed. He grabbed the pills meant to be for Dean and threw them at Dean’s head. “You’re being an asshole, take some fucking medicine.” Castiel ordered before walking out of the room, shirtless.

Meg was in the kitchen, cup of coffee in her hand and staring at her phone. When she saw Castiel she smirked. “Looking for this?” Meg asked, holding up his shirt.

“You suck.” Castiel said, grabbing his long-sleeved shirt and throwing it on. He texted Anna to come get him, wanting to go home as soon as possible.

“I wanted a good show this morning.” Meg replied teasingly, “I even stole Dean’s.” She laughed, and Castiel just rolled his eyes and ignored her.

His memories of the girl, Carmen, from the night before came back. And it only made him angrier. Dean had almost played him, bringing this beautiful girl to a party, showing her off like a trophy. And how was Castiel to compete with that? He couldn’t, because Dean didn’t want Castiel. He was a boy, completely fucked in the head, and also a prick. Castiel knew there were no desirable qualities to him, especially not when put up against someone as perfect for Dean as Carmen.

But in truth, he shouldn’t be as pissed as he was. He knew he wasn’t being reasonable. Dean was allowed to do whatever he wanted, because they weren’t together and never would be. Dean was going to see other people, but that didn’t stop Castiel from being jealous. The bigger problem was that Castiel couldn’t tell Dean why he was pissed. But he could have the bit of satisfaction in knowing Dean woke up next to him, not Carmen.

“You going?” Meg asked, offering Castiel some of her coffee.

“Yeah, I have some stuff to do.” Castiel shifted awkwardly.

Meg eyed him. “Still pissy with green-eyes?”

Castiel knew she already knew the answer so he just shrugged.

“Give him a break.” Meg advised. “You probably don’t remember but he pretty much made that chick leave last night so he could take care of your sorry, intoxicated fuck-ass.”

Castiel was surprised by the harshness of her words and the combination of swears she used to insult him, but that didn't dissuade him from the shock of the weight they carried. “Really?”

“Yep.” Meg said. “Even helped carry you back from the toilet after you puked your guts out. And when you started screaming last night in your sleep, he woke you and helped you fall back asleep.”

“I had a nightmare?” Castiel asked, embarrassed and surprised. He normally only had them when he was home and sober.

Meg nodded into her mug of coffee. “Yeah, it sounded scary.”

“Strange.” Castiel said aloud, just as Anna texted him she was almost here.

“Anything else I should know before I go apologize and leave?” Castiel asked, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

“Uh… No. Actually, that Carmen girl yelled at Dean about him being more preoccupied with you than her, and then stormed off. Dean didn’t even care.” Meg said honestly. Castiel’s eyes widened, and she waved her hand a bit as a goodbye and turned her eyes back to her phone.

Castiel slowly trudged up the stairs, knowing he made an ass out of himself this morning and probably the night before.

Dean was still sitting in the bed, now on his phone, when Castiel cautiously entered. “I’m leaving.” He spoke slowly.

“Oh.” Dean said simply.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel rushed out. “I was extremely rude this morning and I apologize. I was probably also an ass last night, so thank you for putting up with that and being kind despite my shitty personality.” Castiel said, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s okay.” Dean replied quietly.

“Are _we_ okay?” Castiel asked, eyes on the ground before he looked over at Dean.

“Yeah, we’re okay.” Dean sighed. He stood up from the bed, putting his hand out to shake. Castiel looked at it hesitantly before taking it slowly. Dean just smiled and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Bye Cas.” He said softly.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Castiel turned to leave, feeling cold without Dean’s arms around him. Even though he knew he didn’t have the right to feel jealous, he still wanted Dean. Even if it was entirely selfish and out of his place. 

“Cas?” Dean called, just as Castiel was stepping out the door. Castiel turned to look at Dean, now sitting in the bed again. Dean hesitated for a moment. “Was it Carmen?”

Castiel didn’t say anything, didn’t even nod. He just shut the door, and they both knew what it meant.

Castiel left Meg’s feeling no better than how he felt when he got there the night before. He came wanting some sort of outlet for everything that had been built up inside of him. And he left with only more questions and an ache inside his core. Castiel was learning that no drug, amount of alcohol, or blade, could fill this emptiness.

\-- -

The weeks after the New Year went back to the same way it had been before. School started up again and Castiel was back in his regular schedule of going to school and smoking, and trying to forget the looming threat of Father Marv in the background.

Church was especially painful now, because Father Marv made it his goal to look at Castiel every moment he could, to pick him apart with his eyes. And Castiel was barely hanging on at this point, waiting to be cornered somewhere and dragged to the basement. He spent every waking moment paranoid Father Marv was coming after him, and even the best of highs weren’t helping to soothe him.

The art show was finally coming up though, and Tessa was confident Castiel’s giant psychedelic painting of the Angel of Death would win. Castiel tried not to get his hopes up.  

The big day came sooner than Castiel expected. His father was too busy with work and his mother wasn’t feeling well when the day came, so it was just his siblings, and the Winchester brothers. Meg had to work, but she would be off soon after the art show was over, and Dean and Cas would head over there to either celebrate or drink to get over the fact that Castiel lost.

It was weird at first, Michael and Luke meeting Sam and Dean. Michael and Dean somehow ended up getting along famously since Michael was thankful for Dean’s presence in Castiel’s life. And Luke was quite fond of the little Winchester and his young aspirations for law school, which was what Luke was currently attending. Gabriel and Dean were in-school buddies already, since they were both seniors and shared classes. Dean and Gabriel both were quite passionate about food, and could talk about it for hours. Anna and Dean were nice to each other, and Castiel swore she could see Anna’s cheeks blush every time Dean spoke to her. There was no doubt Anna had a little crush on Dean, but Castiel suspected she knew it was off-limits territory. And Dean would never try to get with the sister of his best friend anyways.

Despite being an odd mix of people, Dean being the popular jock hanging out with the school’s biggest nerd family, they did have a good time walking around the art show. Castiel knew Dean took pride in his ego and status at LHS, but Dean didn’t see anyone he knew there anyways. Not that he was too concerned, there were a ton of excuses he could make up if need be to not have people suspect Dean and Cas were close. Castiel selfishly wished Dean could show him off like a prize to the entire school, but that would never happen for a multitude of reasons. Castiel still wished they didn’t have to be secret friends, like there was something to be ashamed about between them.

When they found Castiel’s art on display in the front, everyone was in awe of it. There was a small crowd of people complimenting it, and Michael especially was really moved by it. “It’s beautiful.” He told Castiel, staring at it in amazement. Castiel was flattered by everyone’s words, but the thoughts of what he had experienced the night he painted it, made Castiel’s mood sour a bit. He remained mostly silent from then on. Dean was able to uplift it with a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and a low-whisper of, “I’ve already seen this thing and it still gives me the chills.”

At the end of the show, after walking around for thirty minutes or so, the winners were to be revealed. Third place went to someone’s greatly detailed sketch of their dog. Second went to a sculpture of the Chicago Skyline. And when Castiel heard his name announced for first place, his brother’s and sister, as well as Sam and Dean, all cheered him on as he accepted the award bashfully. A check for two hundred dollars and a beautiful trophy, everyone was proud of him, and they decided to go to a celebratory dinner after.

“Jo’s Mom Ellen owns a roadhouse not far from here. They’ve got the best burgers in the state, you’d love’em Cas.” Dean assured, swinging his arm around Castiel’s shoulder in the parking lot. Castiel tried not to vibrate at the touch, but he just smiled at Dean and nodded.

Everyone agreed to go there, and Dean led the way in the impala, Sam and Cas with him while the rest of the Novak’s drove in Michael’s silver Prius. When they got to roadhouse, there was something about the grungy, rustic exterior that made Castiel and the golden-spoon fed Novak’s nervous. But as soon as they entered the building and felt the warm hominess it carried, they were instantly relaxed.

Jo was waitressing when they all wandered in, the Novak’s looking like fish out of water. But she smiled at them and waved. “Nice to see ya’ again, Cas? Did you win that award thingy?” Jo asked, pulling Cas into a bone-crushing hug.

“I did.” Castiel said, smiling at her. Jo was very sisterly, and reminded him of a tom-boy version of Anna.

“That’s fantastic!” Jo exclaimed, spinning around and throwing an arm around Castiel’s shoulders like Dean had before. “Hey mom, Did’ya hear? Cas won that art award!” Jo yelled over the rock music to an older brunette woman standing behind the bar. She looked up, found Dean who was standing there with his hands stuffed in his leather jacket.

“So, this is the boy you’ve been telling me about?” Ellen asked Dean, wiping her hands on a towel and walking up to crowd in the door way. Cas tried to hide his blush, but just smiled over at Dean and then Ellen. “Well, congrats on the award. I’m sure whatever you made was great. Now, how ‘bout a table?”  

Jo seated them in the far left corner, away from other patrons. She got them drinks, gently teased Dean and messed up Sam’s hair playfully. She spent a while conversing with the Novak’s, trading off with her mother who stopped by to chat a couple times.

“I know John and Mary Winchester very well, Dean and Sam here are like nephews to me, or the sons I never wanted.” Ellen joked, poking Dean’s shoulder and placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Any friend of theirs is a friend of mine.”

All the Novak’s thanked her for her kindness. Dean was grateful that they all got along well. In no time, their families were melding together. The Novak’s were orphans with parents. Kids whose parents were uninvolved, only caring about the façade they carried. It was mothers like Mary and Ellen that made them desire better parents, and because of Sam and Dean Winchester, they were finally being shown the affection and familial love they lacked. Even if it was only found in the hospitality Ellen gave them, and the concern Mary held for Castiel. However, it seemed that no one had the best of luck with father’s.

Their food came, and they ate. And Castiel was actually in a pretty decent mood, able to block out all the darkness as he sat across from Dean and watched every time his eyes crinkled as he laughed at a joke Gabriel made, or how he stuffed his mouth so much he looked like, as Sam kept pointing out, a squirrel.

After they all finished eating their delicious burgers, (Gabriel had mentioned something about having a mouth-orgasm, and they all laughed aside from Michael who tried not to look embarrassed while stifling his own laughter), they headed out after extended goodbyes with the Harvelle’s, making promises to come back soon.

It was getting late, but with it being a Friday night and all of them having come up with plans, they all split. Michael and Luke took Anna to a friends and then Luke went out with his. Michael and Gabriel planned on binge-watching a TV show, not before stopping at a Walmart to get stuff to make cookie brownie hybrids and ice-cream sundaes. Zachariah wouldn’t be home for the night, and Naomi was probably already too drunk to care where her children were. So Castiel went with Dean to drop Sam off at their house, despite Sam’s arguing to tag along with them. They finally got Sam to leave with Castiel’s promises to invite him next time.

Dean and Castiel drove to Meg’s in comfortable silence, the cold winter not phasing them as they sat in the warmth of Dean's black impala.

Meg had joked about having a bottle of champagne to open if Castiel won, so when they got to Meg’s and told her the news, Meg did actually have a small bottle of champagne. So they cracked it open, music playing loudly in the background, they each filled a glass and cheered. “To Castiel!” Meg called, and so did Dean, and Castiel just smiled humbly before downing the glass.

They finished the bottle, and all of them were catching a good buzz when Meg pulled out some fruit loop vodka and sprite.

As they sat around drinking and watching TV, occasionally talking but not really keeping a conversation, Meg actually ended up falling asleep, tired from work. And in their drunken stupor, Dean and Cas came up with the brilliant plan to draw all over her face, because despite the heavy shit they were going through, they were still teenage boys.

“No sharpie.” Castiel warned as Dean headed into the kitchen to grab one. “I think she’d actually kill us.”

Dean nodded. “Eyeliner?”

Castiel nodded eagerly, praising Dean’s idea. “Genius.”

They bolted up the stairs, running up them so quickly they both ended up going flying in the middle of the hallway, landing on each other in a mess of limbs that had them both laughing with tears in their eyes.

They ended up standing up somehow, shuffling to Meg’s bedroom to lay down and rest their heads for a moment. Pretty drunk and goofy with a good buzz, they laid on their backs and stared at the ceiling, forgetting completely about the eyeliner.

Dean let out a heavy sigh. “You really should be proud of that painting, Cas.”

Castiel hummed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Thanks, Dean.”

“What are you gonna do with the money?” Dean asked after a few moments.

Thinking for a moment, Castiel finally replied bluntly. “Probably spend it on drugs.”

“Not gonna put it towards college?” Dean asked, still expecting Castiel to live up to his potential.

Castiel actually laughed. “Won’t need to.”

“Why not?” Dean asked, turning onto his side.

Castiel sighed, rolling onto his side to face Dean too. He thought for a moment. “Do you really think I’ll make it to college?” Castiel asked, realizing he shouldn’t be saying this kind of stuff. His dark, disturbed humor wasn't really in Dean's taste, and although his tipsy self found it worthy of at least a chuckle, Dean obviously did not agree.

“I would hope so.” Dean countered, not entirely sure where Castiel's sudden pessimism was coming from.

Shaking his head, Castiel looked away from Dean. He knew it would be nearly impossible to dodge this now, to play it off with a shrug and switch the conversation. “I’ve learned it’s best not to hope for too much.”

“You don’t think you’ll make it to college?” Dean asked, worry seeping up what was left of his buzz and leaving a stain of sobered concern.

“Most days I don’t think I’ll make it to tomorrow.” Castiel admitted monotonously, eyes on the ceiling. 

"But you do." 

“Doesn’t mean I always will.” Castiel warned, eyes flicking back to Dean. Dean was staring at him, frowning and looking conflicted.

There was a moment of silence before Dean spoke again. “I hope you make it to college. I hope you make it to a hundred years old.”

“And why’s that?” Castiel asked, genuinely curious.

“Because you’re you. You’re good. You’re smart even though you’ve been slacking off lately. And you’re strong. You’ll get past all this one day, and you’ll be even stronger. And you, Cas. You’ll change the world.” Dean said, his buzz suddenly back with a passion, drunken adoration spilling from his lips. But Castiel was only hearing bullshit.

Castiel was frozen, unable to speak after Dean's fiery words. He looked away from Dean, feeling a pain of guilt in his chest. Dean thought so highly of him, and yet Castiel knew he couldn't live up to anything Dean was saying. So the only way he could make sense of it was assuming he wasn't speaking truthfully. “You don’t have to lie to me, Dean.”

“I’m not!” Dean returned sharply.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I’m not good, okay? I’m... A mess. I'm bad, as awful as they can come. I may be smart with numbers and books, but truthfully, I’m an idiot. If I were smart, I would have found a better way to cope with all the bad shit that happens to me, not by slicing my veins every night and getting so stoned I can’t even feel my body. And I’m not strong, I won’t get past this. If anything, I’m pathetically weak. I give in to every temptation because I lack any sense of self-preservation. My instinct to survive is severely lacking. I won’t change the world, Dean. I’ll rot in the ground before I get the chance.”

Dean was at a loss for words, Castiel speaking so fast he was hard to follow. But after a few drunken moments of processing, Dean didn't know what else to be but angry at Castiel’s response. “Why can’t you see how great you are?”

Sitting up with a scoff, Castiel looked away from Dean. “I’ve been told all my life I was... _Nothing._ That I was below-average or a failure. That I was a disappointment to my family. Everyone in school ignores me. The people who don’t, like Gordon, treat me no better than the dirt on their shoes. I don’t see myself as great because no one else does.”

“I do.” Dean argued, sitting up to be level with Castiel.

“It’s not enough, Dean.” Castiel mumbled, looking at his hands as a distraction. He knew where this could be heading and he was already regretting his stubbornness. 

“Why not?” Dean asked, slightly offended.

“Because..." Castiel paused painfully, not sure exactly how to explain it. " _It's just not enough_.” Castiel repeated, inhaling in frustration when Dean gave him another angry-confused look. “It’s not enough, because _I’m_ not enough.” Castiel said, feeling more regret now, because he was stepping into territory he shouldn’t be. But still a little drunk and lacking a filter, Castiel couldn’t hold back the impending shit storm.

“What does that even mean?” Dean asked, irritated confusion threaded into his words.

Castiel put his head in his hands before sitting up again. “You think I’m great. And that’s… That’s _great._ But it… It isn’t enough. Because you may think I’m great, but I’m not great _enough_ for _you_.” Castiel was getting frustrated with his inability to piece it all together. “You tell me all these nice things, but it’s just giving me this false hope… You don’t treat me like the rest of your friends, but you don’t treat me like… _Like the girls you hook up with either._ I am in this grey area and it is incredibly frustrating, because we can be secret best-friends, but nothing more. And that’s not good enough. But yet you still treat me like I’m more than a friend. And it just feeds into my never-ending cycle of not being good enough. I’m not a good enough friend for you because we can’t even be friends in public, and I’m not a good enough person for you be with, but yet you still tease me with these ideas and… God I’m making no sense.” Castiel stopped, biting his lips and looking away. It was quiet for a long time, both of them processing the puzzle that was just put on the table for them to sort through.

“Cas…” Dean said slowly, as if he was searching for the words. And a part of Castiel was hoping Dean would tell him that he was wrong, that Dean _liked_ Castiel. That maybe Dean would kiss him and they wouldn’t have to dance around each other like this anymore. But Dean was just going to prove Castiel’s earlier theory about hoping. “I don’t… I don’t like guys.”

Castiel simply rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and neither do I. I mean, hell, I went to religious conversion therapy for years to fix my early gay habits. I even have a girlfriend now.” Castiel said in panicked sarcasm, wishing he could just cut his tongue off. “But for some reason, when we kissed the night of Christmas Eve, I _kind of_ liked it. And you seemed to like it to. Well damn, did you go to scarring conversion therapy too?” Castiel asked, voice wavering at the end at his sad attempt of a joke. 

Dean stood up quickly. “I didn’t like it!” He defended.

Castiel looked up at Dean with a deadly mixture of insanity and rage dancing in his eyes. “Are you fucking serious? I pretty much just told you why I’m so fucked up, and your only comment is to make sure I know that you _didn’t like kissing me_? That’s not even the fucking point! But really, Dean? You didn’t like it? Because you seemed pretty into it.” 

Dean grabbed Castiel by the shirt and pushed him against the wall. “You better keep your mouth shut.” He said sternly, alcohol and fear combining into anger.

Castiel let out a bitter, afraid laugh. “You seem to be overcompensating.” Castiel said, and God, he really did need to figure out when to shut his mouth. It was like his nerves and fear mixed together amplified his wittiness to the extreme. Dean gave Castiel a flustered look, like he was torn on how to react. “C’mon Dean, how can you tell me you’re straight in one breath, but in the next, be all over me? Kiss me and cuddle me and tell me all these sweet things, only to cringe and deflect when I bring it up? Your problem isn’t that you might be gay, or you might be straight, or that you might be somwhere in the midle. It’s that you can’t come to terms with who you really are, so you’re gonna fuck with my head to to keep the urges at bay, and then pretend you didn’t have them at all.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you fucking freak.” Dean defended, but Castiel flipped them over so Dean had his back against the wall. Castiel might be mentally unstable, but it was not to be mistaken that Dean only had a little bit of height on him, and that Castiel was still pretty strong.

“Why don’t you just say it, Dean? Call me a faggot like Gordon would, make some homophobic pass at me so you can go home tonight in confidence that at least your father can’t hit you for liking boys, too. I mean it’s not like I haven’t heard the worst. You can’t fucking break me with some names, but don’t you dare try to tell me you’ll be able to sleep tonight, because I know this will keep you awake for days.” Castiel said, forearm to Dean’s throat as Dean struggled to get out of his grip.

“Fuck off.” Dean spat, eyes glossing over with frustrated tears that would never fall.

“Don’t you get it, Dean? I’ve been where you are, except worse. ” Castiel nearly yelled, border-lining hysteria at this point. 

Dean finally managed to push Castiel away from him, turning him around and throwing him against the wall. Castiel hit it, and fell to the floor, pain circuiting up his spine. He caught the look on Dean’s face of instant regret, because he hadn’t meant to throw him so hard. But he shook the look off, a scowl taking its place.

“The world doesn’t fucking spin for you, Cas. You’ve been through some shit, but it doesn’t make you some godly, all-knowing saint. You’re not the only one with problems. And you can’t always have what you want just because _you’ve been there too._ You just have some God-complex where you think everyone owes you shit _._ ” Dean managed to say, keeping the anger in his voice steady despite the fact that he was shaking. Castiel let out a dark chuckle, ignoring Dean’s words and the way the world was spinning.

“You can go find your football friends and join the homophobic bandwagon, but it won’t change the fact that you like me, Dean Winchester. You can never speak to me again, hate me, beat me up in the hallways with Gordon, but deep down, you know that we shared something. And if you go, you will forever be a coward.” Castiel spat, sitting up.

“I’m not gay, and I don’t like you. You’re delusional, insane, you’ve imagined this all. I was nice to you Castiel, I was your _friend_. And you tried to turn this into something it’s not.” Dean said through clenched teeth, but Castiel knew he wasn’t even believing the words he was speaking. Dean looked down at Castiel one more time before heading towards the door.

“Dean, if you leave...” Castiel said slowly, back against the wall from where he sat, body aching and heart beating loudly, pulsing in his ears. They were both in tears as Dean turned and their eyes locked. “You might as well dig a hole in the ground right here to bury me before you go.”

Dean's mouth opened a little, but he shut it tightly. He just gave Castiel another pained look, breathing heavily as he turned to walk out.

In the same second Castiel went to crawl and stand up to go after him, he stopped in defeat as the pain in his back left him frozen on the ground. He grunted in frustration, fists curling and tears spilling down his cheeks, but Dean was already running down the stairs. " _IF YOU'RE GOING TO LEAVE, DON'T FUCKING EXPECT ME TO BE ALIVE WHEN YOU COME BACK._ " 

Castiel heard the front door open and Dean pause in the frame. Castiel didn't breathe again until he heard it slam and the impala start up, still hoping that Dean was going to come back inside and run up the stairs with apologies spilling from his lips.

Meg was upstairs in an instant. “I woke up and someone was yelling, and then I heard the door slam... What the hell happened?”

Castiel was sitting there, a shaking mess. Meg ran towards him, kneeling to check for any injuries. Castiel sat up, heaving sobs wracking his whole body as if a part of him had just been ripped from his chest. Meg wrapped her arms around him for a moment, offering some comfort, but Castiel shook her off. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t deserve it. If he had kept his stupid mouth shut, Dean would still be here. They were drunk, Castiel got drunkenly hopeful. He pursued something relentlessly and got pissed off when it didn’t go his way. Sure, Dean had said some hurtful things, but so did Castiel. In ways, they both fucked up, but if Castiel wouldn’t have been an idiot, he wouldn’t be alone. He wouldn’t feel the void in his chest Dean helped to stitch up, reopening and darkness pouring in. This was his fault, and he couldn’t face that.

“Dean’s gone.” Castiel finally replied, wiping his face in a vain attempt to pull himself together.

“Like, _gone_ , gone?” Meg asked, moving to crouch in front of Castiel.

“I didn’t really expect him to stay.” Castiel lied, but he wasn’t about to open up to Meg about what happened. Instead he sat there, beginning to gasp as anxiety tore through his chest. He forcefully dragged himself away from an impending anxiety attack. He took a few deep breaths, and wouldn’t let himself find solace in his tears.

Castiel had warned Dean that if he walked out the door, it was over. And Dean had left anyways. And now Castiel was left alone wondering if Dean had ever cared at all. Castiel decided he didn’t want to feel a thing.

“Cas.” Meg said, moving to hug him, but Castiel pulled away and stood up.

“I’m fine.” Castiel said quickly, lying but still trying to convince himself he was okay. “This was a reminder that only you and I are in this together, and we’re still on death row. Call Crowley. Tell him to bring something that will ruin me.” Castiel said, moving towards the bedroom door like he was just a corpse walking.

Meg was standing there frozen.

“What? Have you changed your mind on all this?” Castiel asked, irritated.

“No I just… I’ll go make the call.” Meg sputtered, watching Castiel walk out the room. Meg was torn, feeling bad for Castiel’s loss, but also wanting to be selfish. She and Castiel had made a deal, after all. And now that Dean was out of the picture, they could get back on track. So Meg just walked past him, dialing Crowley’s number and asking him to bring them something that would indeed ruin them. And Crowley did, a half-hour later. He didn’t bother with stronger weed, ecstasy, acid, or even cocaine. He knew what they wanted, what would get them hooked. He went straight to the needle and killer H.

Somewhere across town, Dean made it home in one piece. But where Castiel was rolling up his sleeve and coaxing a needle into his vein just to feel again, Dean was feeling too much. Ignoring Mary and Sam’s questioning, Dean walked to his room stone-faced, before locking the door and collapsing to his knees, sobbing for what he had just walked away from.

Maybe Castiel would forgive him, maybe tomorrow he could call Cas and apologize. Maybe this would all blow over and they could both pretend the drunken fight never happened. But where Dean was staying up all night crying about it, Castiel was shooting poison into his veins, laying back onto Meg’s couch, and floating up to fly with the stars.

For the first time in a long time, Castiel didn’t feel anything but a beautiful euphoria. And he liked it that way. He didn’t care about Dean, didn’t care about his family, or Father Marv, or Meg, or this whole damn universe. With a beautiful drug named heroin coursing in his blood stream, he was perfectly content with nothingness.

Castiel held a one-way ticket to hell in a needle, and he was experiencing the most beautiful death he could ever know.

Everything was bliss.


End file.
